Four Vigilantes
by Darkmoon111
Summary: The Emerald Archer has a second chance to make right his wrongs. To change his fateful decisions on the Island. Five years later he returns to Starling with a vengeful goal and with new allies and skills, Oliver has the greatest chance of saving his city. But as the saying goes 'an eye for an eye', Oliver must pay the price for his deviations from the past and he will pay dearly.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The world was a desolate wasteland. The destroyed crumbling buildings of Starling city were a wreak, the trees burned and far too many bodies lay ominously still upon the blackened ground. Only one masked man stood, in absolute triumph, smirking at the hooded defeated man whom knelt before him.

The man pulled of his black and orange Deathstroke mask, wishing to look at the man whom he saw as responsible for the destruction of all he held dear, realise the true magnitude of his actions those five long hateful years ago.

The green hood fell back, the emerald leather mask dropped to the ground, a bow lay abandoned upon the floor, the quiver empty of arrows, green or otherwise. Tears fell freely down the kneeling man's face as he gazed at the dead bodies surrounding him; Thea, Felicity, Diggle, Sara, Laurel, Roy, Officer Lance, even Nyssa al Ghul and Malcolm Merlyn.

Slade's cruel smile would have formerly evicted an incredible bloodthirsty killer rage inside Oliver, but now, with his family and allies surrounding him in death, he felt naught but inconceivable guilt and the hope of a quick end to the suffering.

For without Felicity's constant words of encouragement and unmovable ethics, or Diggle's continuous drive and discipline, or Sara's skill, and Tommy's moral compass, Thea's sisterly love, Laurel's hard endless determination, Yao Fei's gentle but persistent strength, Shado's calming nature, his Father's passionate protection, Roy's young sense of fairness and equality; even without his hate for Malcolm's undertaking and the pain he caused him and his city. He was lost, without purpose, without his usual single minded will to fight back, to never give up.

He had started and continued this fight for them, not for himself, never for himself. He knew in is heart that he should continue the fight despite the irreplaceable loss, not have them just die in vain but the pain was relentless, overcoming his sense of Justice and desire for vengeance. He felt responsible for their deaths, he would not, could not blame Slade for them, he blamed himself.

He created him, Slade the monster, Slade the vengeful, Slade the Terminator. Turned his own brother, a good man, into an enemy that knew his every weakness, his every failing, an enemy that he could not truly fight. He never wanted any of this, he never wanted to be the Hero, he never wanted to fight and lose.

Deep inside him, that young playboy still screamed for comfort and safety though there was none, inside he wanted another to take the mantle of Justice. He couldn't live like this any longer. He gazed up to the man he once called brother.

"Get it over with, Slade. You've won. Kill me." His voice was harsh but strong, he would not let defeat take his voice as well.

Slade stroked his blood-stained katana against the neck of his sworn enemy. Oliver fought the urge to shiver and pull away from the bloody blade. Though he was defeated, Oliver would not shrink away from death. He would take it – just like Shado did.

"You keep forgetting the promise I made to you. You will live in suffering, knowing that you caused your own downfall and the deaths of everyone you love. You will not die, not yet."

Slade withdrew his blade and walked away from the utterly defeated man, black dust swirling as he navigated between broken buildings and corpses, with an almost thoughtless swagger, not a care in the world as he left behind the destruction he had caused.

A sudden surprisingly bitter rage fuelled Oliver. He staggered to his feet, pulling one of his trademark green arrows out of a Mirakuru corpse. No one would keep him from revenge, not even defeat. He would not stop fighting until death.

He tackled Slade to the ground and held him there, despite Slade's superior strength, and raised the arrow ready to destroy his other eye. Then Time slowed. Oliver found himself frozen, unable to move, and yet his mind was a whir. It was as if his body wouldn't react to his mind's directions.

He felt his eyes being drawn upward, away from the man below him, away from the man he desired retribution upon, away from the man whom was once a brother now turned arch enemy. In the dust and destruction, a glimmer of impossibly white cloth in the distance and then the world filled with white fog, not like the black smoke from the fire, but rather like a fluffy mid-summer cloud.

A beautiful woman appeared through the dim haze. Her skin was the palest shade of white, her hair the darkest black. She wore a floor-length sleeveless dress, pure black at the bodice, slowly fading into the most untainted of whites. Her eyes were like a reflection of the stars of the night sky; black with pinpricks of pure light.

And yet she walked through the bloody carnage like it was naught but a dream, like it was not real, like a figment of an overactive imagination. She reached out to him, Slade faded away, and the world turned grey.

_Make Right what went Wrong. Do what you must, and all you love will live. But fail and this future will be a Mercy. Many things will be different but many things will stay the same. I will guide you where I can and gift you with knowledge but you will be on you own. This is your choice. A second chance. Choose Wisely, Emerald Archer._

Oliver looked at the greyness around him, in his mind he could see his dead friends and allies. He could hear their screams as their final breath was taken from them all too soon. Could he right his wrongs? Turn right where he turned left? Was he ready to sacrifice this life for a slim chance at a better one, which by far more likely would turn out to be a worse one?

_A second chance. _

He looked at the green arrow in his hands and decided. He would not fail them this time, none of them. Not Slade, not Shado, not Sara, or Tommy, or Thea or Felicity or Diggle or Roy or his mother. No one. He stood up and cast aside the arrow. He reached out and took the women's hand and willingly let the darkness close in on his mind.

…/|\…

His eyes seemed heavy, as if weighed down by the whole mass of the world. Memories of this new alternate world engulfed him. A jumbled mess of information flooding all at once into his brain sending it into overload mode. He could barely think from the onslaught of recollections of this new and yet familiar world.

He groaned quietly and involuntary forced himself to open his eyes. The filtered sunlight of the wreckage plane _Wedgetail _on the Island of Lian Yu, hit his face dilating his cerulean blue eyes, warming his pale clammy face. Oliver pulled his unwilling, aching body into a sitting position, his back leaning against the rough metal walls.

To his intense surprise he saw Yao Fei and Shado talking by the radio. He frowned in slight confusion, Yao Fei never went to the plane in his memory, at least certainly not while he was there.

He glanced around and saw a man he couldn't recall ever seeing in his life, sitting on the other side of the plane, sharpening a large machete similar to Slade's, in fact his clothing was also akin to Slade's. His new memories told him that he wasn't a threat, but for some reason the man's stance made Oliver extremely untrusting of him.

_Some things in the Past have changed to help you decide the Future. _The annoyingly beautiful littering voice pierced his mind.

Well that's helpful, he thought, sarcastically. His memories were still in an utter mess. He could not remember exactly what had happened in his original memories and his new ones were covered in an odd haze making it difficult to determine what happened when and in what timeline.

He knew that he needed time to think properly, away from the man sharpening his knife, away from Shado and Yao Fei's quiet but piercing Mandarin that he could now, unbeknownst to them, understand. The new man looked up as Oliver shifted his weight against the metal walls, accidentally causing the oxidized aluminium to creak. The man gives him this twisted half-smile of encouragement but Oliver knows that he is surprised by his sudden awakening by the way his eyes flicker and his stance changes.

He stood up, suppressing a painful groan. He ignored the startled looks upon Shado, Yao Fei and the unacquainted man's face, and lumbered out of the plane into the open air. He stood outside taking in deep breaths of the freshest air he had breathed since his third trip to Lian Yu after Tommy's death and the partial destruction of the Glades.

He suddenly sways, as if in the wind, and he leans his hand against the plane to steady his throbbing body and pounding head. He hears Shado walk over to the unfamiliar man and start a hushed conversation with him. Unknown to the occupants of the plane, Oliver could hear exactly what they were saying despite the fact that he wasn't supposed to speak and understand Mandarin in any proficient manner.

"He should have been out for at least another three hours, and even then he shouldn't be able to stand or move around." Shado alleged, half worried, half puzzled.

"If it was Slade, I would understand the fast recovery, but the Kid? I don't know, he seems more alert and less pained then he should be." The other man whom Oliver still didn't remember, apparently also spoke and understood Mandarin.

Oliver winced, realising how hard it would be to fool them all, they knew him far too well for this to be any kind of easy. His memories of this alternate world really needed to be sorted through, so he would not make any more careless mistakes.

He quietly slipped away from the plane, ignoring his pained chest and head. He quickly scaled a small cliff to a small ledge. He had found this the second time on the island, it was perfect as you were completely unseen unless someone deliberately went to the edge of the cliff – which was steep and covered in prickly bushes – and looked right down.

The ledge was positioned so no one, even if they climbed trees and deliberately looked right at him, would be able to see him. He remembered how lucky he was to find it, after falling from the cliff he managed to grab the ledge before he hit the ground. It was just one of the many close calls he remembered from his time in this Hell.

Oliver pulled his legs to his chest and lent his head against the rocky cliff face, and calmed himself. Taking deep breaths, he began to list the differences and similarities of this Alternate World to his Past Timeline, as he decided to call them. And ends up with about four important changes/ parallels that were worth note in his current position as a castaway on Lian Yu.

1\. Until he was captured by Edward Flyers, everything of this life was for the most part (At least the parts that really mattered at this moment) were basically the same. 

2\. There were three ASIS agents sent to extract Yao Fei from Lian Yu. William Wintergreen did not betray Slade, the third unnamed guy did (Whom was only the mildest of acquaintances to the other two). But Billy Wintergreen was captured like Yao Fei and was only freed while Flyers camp was destroyed by the missile. 

3\. Yao Fei was not killed by Flyers as Wintergreen escaped and tackled him while Shado and Oliver went to stop the missile and Yao Fei, Slade and Wintergreen took out the rest of the soldiers. 

4\. Billy Wintergreen was a far better teacher than Slade (Although not as good as Slade in actual warfare) in hand to hand combat, meaning that he was now better at this point in time than he was in the Past Timeline at the same time…

_Wow._ Oliver thought, _my life is confusing. Or is it lives now?_ He shook his head clear of such thoughts, it would do no good to dwell on the past. It would only distract him from doing this right. Not everyone gets a second chance. He wouldn't waste this, he wouldn't let them die, not this time.

He ran his hand through his long rugged blonde hair and sighed, he had a trek in front of him, and he wouldn't shy from it, he wasn't going to lose this time, he promised himself. They wouldn't die this time, at least not before he did. Ivo would not kill Shado, the Mirakuru would not poison Slade and he would not let Malcolm Merlyn destroy his city. The world better be ready, because the Emerald Archer was not going to back down this time.

…/|\\...

**Soo… I've finally gotten around to posting this Arrow Fanfic. Hope you like. Review if you want more.**

***Darkmoon111***


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Darkness slowly engulfed Starling city, the sun lazily setting over the some half a million people whom lived in the high-rise apartment towers or rough housing of the Glades. The maze of streets were abuzz with activity; neon signs flashing, car headlights like rows of stars, and the fall of hurried footsteps on the concrete sidewalks.

This night was like any other, nightclubs opening with intimidating bouncers outside whom shoved any drunken revellers whom dared come close, snatches of music from clubs and dance floors mingled with the constant chatter of people. Thousands of people. All around there seemed to be life; from the open main streets to the little side ways that wound between the tall buildings that soared up into the dusky night sky.

Two men wound their way around the crowds of people out partying. It was almost Christmas and it seemed that everyone was taking the opportunity to get out, spend ridiculous amounts of money, and celebrate.

The two men both wore deep hoods that concealed, for the most part, their faces from prying eyes, making it exceedingly difficult to tell either of the two men's ages or facial descriptions. Both, however, made no attempt to hide their obviously strong buff figures and their alertness that clearly made them anything but an easy target.

This, combined with their aura of undulated confidence with a shady tone of darkness that they excluded, made passers-by leave them alone and hurry on their way. Making it easy for them to slip between the river of people; ducking, weaving and swaying at the right times, making it look almost too easy, moving far faster than any of the others on the street.

As they passed through the more affluent areas of Starling city, more and more people packed the streets, slowing even their unerringly graceful progress. Despite their hoods and vigilant stance, the men lost themselves in the crowd.

Were one to question anybody, sober or otherwise, not detail of the two would be remembered and yet they still retained their intimidating don't-mess-with-me impression that kept any from daring to try anything with them. It was that unique quality, that both of them learned to recreate and use to their own purposes, which made them so perfectly suited to the dangerous lives they lead.

The two men finally made it to their intended destination, a small typical American restaurant in the outer edges of the Glades; a little, almost run down, out-of-the-way bistro that had fake cameras and plastic chairs.

The two men encircled the place like a pair of hungry sharks, inspecting every possible exit and entrance point, the best place to sit without compromising their vision of the surrounds, noting anything that may help in the event of an attack. Their training, so clearly ingrained into their systems, that they just couldn't stay anywhere long without having assessed the danger and every possible way to attack and escape if need be. One may call it paranoia but to them it was just deeply in-built instinct.

The two men eventually decided that it was safe enough to enter the premises but they kept their vigilance as they were taught. Both of the men were immediately waved over by a young Asian woman and an older military man whose stance mirrored the other men's and his similar features marked him clearly as the young women's father. The two men sat with them at a carefully selected table that offered both the best protection in an attack and a clear view of both the rest of the room and the street outside.

The women was extraordinarily beautiful and graceful, tendrils of long black hair framed her softly smiling face. She wore a simple long black coat, which made her russet brown eyes look lighter but also framed her naturally ready stance.

Her father, sitting across from her, had the same pale skin, his facial hair stylized in a goatee, his black hair relatively long, brushing the sides of his ears. His expression was one of relaxed calmness but he was just as alert as his other three companions. The two men sat down and exchanged words in fluent Mandarin. It was only then that they decided it safe to remove their deep hoods that covered their faces from any curious onlookers.

The shorter man, whom visibly older than his companion, had short military cut black hair and a dark shadow of stubble lining his face. His skin was deeply tanned and was nicked by several deep silver scars. His eyes were the darkest of browns, like pools of darkness. He wore a leather jacket and combat boots and his expression was one of alert contentment.

The taller man also had dark hair, but unlike his companions it was unnatural – dyed – and his light brown eyes were actually contacts. His skin was unchanged however and was palest of the four despite spending many years in the sun. His face, unlike the others, was not of any variety of happiness. He was the tensest; like an attack, if there was to be one, would be on him, not his friends. Every small noise or unexplained action by anybody, in the restaurant or outside caused his eyes to flicker nervously.

"You right there, mate? You do realize the cameras are for show." Slade's signature smirk was about as infuriating as his condescending tone.

"I know. It's just…" Oliver sighed, almost unnaturally unsettled. This was not helped by his ordinary paranoia and general alertness.

"You will be fine, no one will recognize you." Shado was always the supportive one of their little group.

"Well actually…" Slade was cut off by Shado's exasperated glare. "I mean – no one is going to know it's you, mate. It's been five years, you'd have been long thought of as dead." A slight smile made its way on Oliver's face at how the much smaller women so easily dealt with his gruff brother of war and bloodshed, Slade.

"People see what they want to see." Yao Fei said simply, his English had now improved almost unrecognizably from when Oliver first met him on Lian Yu. He could now perfectly mimic accents and pass off as any predominantly English speaking country. But he had still kept to his signature few syllable words and few word sentences. As well as that irksome habit of using old wise quotes as the answer for all situations.

Oliver exhaled, and clenched his jaw but forced himself relax his posture slightly. The waitress sauntered over, arms full of menus and a notebook. She placed the greasy plastic covered menus on the table.

"Any drinks?" Oliver's nose twitched at the overwhelmingly disgusting smell of bubble-gum that invaded his personal space as the waitress leaned in close to him, showing off large amounts of her body thanks to her skanky uniform. Carefully keeping the sneer off his face, he glanced at the others seeing the answer in their eyes.

"Just water for us thanks." She nodded and walked off to serve another customer.

Slade's mouth twisted into a half-smile, which for Slade meant that he was about to say something extremely irritating, "You weren't kidding about the ladies being all over you, Royal."

"Very funny." Oliver said sarcastically, they all knew how touchy Oliver was when it came to his previous antics as a former playboy billionaire.

They picked out food from the rather pitifully small list and waited for the flirty waitress to come back for their orders. Yao Fei, Slade and Shado began to discuss small things, but Oliver was stayed quiet. The irrational feeling someone would recognize his voice somehow seemed to weigh heavily on his mind, despite his dyed hair, the brown contacts and even the fact his friends referred to him by the stupid nickname 'Royal'.

The name had seemed fine when still in China but now he was back in Starling City, it felt far too obvious, far too connected to Ollie Queen. He tried to relax but the feeling of an inevitable discovery tickled at the edge of his conscious mind.

To calm his mind he switched his focus to the small television on the bar. It was showing some rugby game, something Oliver was never interested in even before the Island. He focused his attention on the game, letting go of his fears, calming his tumultuous mind. The waitress came back with water and marked their orders on her small grubby notebook. He lifted up his glass and drank small sips, listening to the banter between Shado and Slade while watching the game.

It was the first time he had gone out publicly since first arriving in Starling City a few months ago, and he was understandably on edge.

…/|\\...

The first to go down was Adam Hunt. Two hooded brothers, one dark warning and twenty-four hours. The police at first treated it as a joke, but one day later and forty million dollars returned to various bank accounts, and several men either hospitalized or in the morgue; the police of Starling City began to realise that this was no jest, these men were deadly serious.

And so the SCPD started looking for the 'Hoods' or the 'Onyx Dueller and Emerald Archer' as they were dubbed by the interfering Media. Several weeks later and the body count only got higher; some criminals, usually unimaginably wealthy, began to listen to the threats, but many – far too many – were not heeding the warnings, believing themselves above such coercions. And that mindset lead all whom did not listen to their messy demise.

The Starling City Police Department had not yet given up the search despite the fruitless results that they were yielding. Quentin Lance used to think that he only truly hated one man, Oliver Queen, but the outright callous boldness of the brother Vigilantes made him feel sick. They killed the illegally wealthy like it was nothing, always leaving clear evidence that proved them guilty of horrific crimes.

But there was something so distasteful about how they went methodically from one criminal to the next, ruthlessly executing them. Playing the judge, jury and executioner all at once. They may be killing the worst of the scum in Starling City but they were no heroes, they were worse than the criminals they hunted as they were more than just outside the law. They dared _justify_ why they killed criminals. As if they were the true deliverers of _Justice_.

They inadvertently dared to make the underlying statement that the law was not enough, that only by going outside of the law were the true criminals were caught. For a man whom always believed that the law was the only way to serve justice, it was disconcerting to see people whom disregarded and disrespected all good values supposedly for the sake of 'Justice'.

Detective Lance understood sacrifice for the greater good but this was exceedingly extreme. These men had to be stopped before they turned their eyes away from criminals to the innocent. The damage they were doing was bad enough when they were working against the criminals, but with them – it would be something out of a horrific nightmare for the SCPD.

Detective Lance paced the length of the SCPD office, right in front of the cork board that had every useful media item (which wasn't many), evidence that they had collected from the multiple crime scenes (So many green arrows) and a few vague eye-witness accounts on the Vigilantes (If they had a superpower it would be making sure no one saw them properly).

Two skillfully drawn pictures took pride of place; one was of a green hooded man with thin stubble, a bow and arrow in his hands drawn back in a threatening manner, a quiver full of arrows on his back, mini arrow darts on his gauntlets, and his emerald tight-fitting leather attire. The other drawing was of a man with a black hood and a with thicker beard, two carefully crafted katana fastened to his back, a pair of handguns strapped to his thighs, various explosives clipped on his belt and across his chest, and a looser black leather outfit that was reminiscent of undercover military operatives.

Next to the drawings there was the estimated height and weight dimensions, and the list of possible and known skills of both of the Vigilantes; including the most worrying and recent report, a possible third vigilante using white and black fetcher arrows. There were also notes on a female in blue working with the Hoods but only vague reports were any useful evidence of a female vigilante.

A far smaller far less crowded but older cork board was next to the Vigilantes cork board with information on the Dark Archer, whom after the hostage episode clearly was not working with the other hooded Vigilantes. There was far less known about him as he was rarely active. But the best theories were that he was possibly a mercenary or some sort of serial killer who didn't appreciate the newcomers.

Lance for the first time in many years felt truly tired, tired of searching ineffectually for men whom disappeared with such ease he felt that he was failure of a detective to be so stumped by these cold hearted men. Men whom had no moral qualms and seemed only interested in killing those that displeased them and delivering their sick version of justice.

He just needed one piece of solid evidence that could help him find these elusive vigilantes. He sighed, looking at these pictures he still could find not one connection, nothing. It was if these men never existed or were considered dead by the all of the world. He warily picked up his phone and jacket and walked into the entrance room of the SCPD, where several of his colleagues were watching the news.

He nodded to them in a friendly manner. Many of these men had fought with him before, a good unit for a busy Saturday night. Especially when the time was ripe for another possible Hood attack. He pulled open the frosted glass double doors and was about to exit when a news headline caught his attention in the reflection of the doors. _The Truth of the Queens's Gambit Sinking_.

He spun around so fast it was surprising he didn't get whiplash. He ran across the room faster than he thought possible, and grabbed the remote, pumping up the volume. Listening in utter rapture to the news proclamation. His face paled, his eyes diluted in shock and his hands shook. _Impossible_. He fumbled with his phone, racing out onto the street, dialling Laurel and opening his car at the same time. Still processing the insane news that had just been told to him by the media.

Could it be true? Could the sinking of the Gambit not be as successful as everyone thought? Could there really be a survivor?

…/|\\...

**Hello my readers. Hope you enjoyed this new instalment in the Four Vigilantes (got to think of a better name – if anyone has any suggestions feel free to Review or PM me them). **

**Review if you want more. Thx.**

***Darkmoon111***


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The plates were soon scraped clean; the restaurant was now filled with many other people and loud noise as darkness truly fell. The conversation between them had slowed significantly, there was little to talk about in the company of people you lived with for some five years, especially when most of what they did or were planning to do was either outright illegal, highly classified or of a sensitive nature that did not qualify for a casual discussion in a shady pub.

Oliver determinedly watched the silly rugby game, wishing that he hadn't agreed to this night out. He felt incredibly claustrophobic in this room, despite the fact that their table was the most isolated, surrounded by pathetic broken plastic trees.

Slade looked at Oliver, worried for his brother in all but blood. Oliver's face was haggard and tense, his eyes hooded without their usual gleam of sarcastic humour or even the dark determination before a battle. Oliver was rarely this quiet, something was wrong, more than just his fear of being discovered.

Oliver was always the most light-hearted of the four, always ready to crack a joke or start an awkward conversation. Slade shared a glance with Shado and Yao Fei. They were worried too. Something was very _very_ wrong. The waitress sashayed over, still attempting to gain Oliver's oblivious attention. She took their plates and asked them for any drinks.

Slade risked another glance at Oliver as he tiredly ordered coffee for all of them. None of them were particularly regular alcoholic drinkers, especially with their night job, and coffee was good for energy and relaxing.

"Something's wrong." Slade stated and Oliver looked at Slade as if he was idiot.

"Obviously." His tone was unusually clipped and final.

The three of them exchanged a look. Slade hoped that Shado would do the talking. He hated emotional Heart-to-Heart talks. They were just too messy and sensitive. Shado looked back at him with her 'Are-You-Insane?-He's-Way-Too-Stubborn-To-Listen-To-Me.' look that she used every time Oliver was in this kind of brooding mood that made him unfeeling and irritable, and he slumped in defeat knowing exactly what his lover could be capable of if he didn't listen to her.

Oliver was clearly in stubborn mode, where they would be lucky for him to even give an ambiguous answer, let alone the proper answer. He knew only he could get an answer out of Oliver, he was far too tenacious for Shado or Yao Fei to use their wise calming aura-thing to set Oliver to talk anymore. Only blunt words and hard pressure could get to him now.

"You gonna tell us? Or do I have to interrogate you." The threat wasn't really that necessary or particularly intimidating, but Slade was not about to go all mushy on the Kid.

"Humph…" Oliver was clearly not going to talk anytime soon.

A malicious thought suddenly entered Slade's mind, "You do know that we are doing sword sparring tonight. I could 'accidently' give you some broken bones or you could tell me what's upsetting you." Slade was unparalleled when it came to sword fighting, no matter how much Oliver sparred with him, Slade would always be better than him. He had some in-built genetic instinct that made him the perfect sword fighter, a true natural, something Oliver could never duplicate no matter the amount of training.

Oliver closed his eyes and let his shoulders sag. He leant his head back, and took a deep breath as if admitting to something that he really didn't want to. "Thea was attacked."

Slade sighed, "You want to see her, don't you?"

Understanding swept through Slade. He remembered when he found out that Rose, Grant and Joe were in Starling too. Adeline left them, after only three years and six months, hating them for being a constant reminder of Slade. They travelled for a year until Slade found out. He used Oliver's Bratva contacts while they were in Hong Kong to bring them to Starling City where he knew he would be when Oliver decided to reveal his continued existence.

It also made it easier to keep track of them as Oliver was tracking Thea in Starling City as well. Slade remembered when he first got to Starling City. He wanted to find them and let them know he was alive and loved them and that he would never let anything hurt them.

But he didn't because it was too risky. Thanks to Billy and the other ASIS agent, the latter whom he only ever knew by his code name Backlash, betraying him, many of his old enemies knew his name and would be all too willing to kill his family as vengeance if they knew he was alive and connected him to them.

"I need to… I just need her to know I'm alive." Oliver's voice cracked. His eyes, despite the contacts, showed emotion. Anger, sadness, loneliness, longing, frustration.

"I know, mate. I know. I felt the same thing when I found out what Adeline did." Slade's voice almost cracked at her name. A painful reminder of what he had to do. And what he still did, watching them from afar unable to interact with them or even let them know he was still alive. Oliver looked at him, eyes maudlin. He was still frustrated but slowly calming. Shado placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, judging, rightly, that he was calm enough no to lash out at her.

"Distance means nothing, when someone means everything." Yao Fei's soft voice all but whispered in Mandarin.

A small sad smile wiped some of the worry off Oliver's face. Yao Fei could always find something to say that would fit the situation suitably. He let himself relax, but the feeling of running off to find his younger sister and tell her the truth remained unshaken at the back of his mind.

Oliver turned back to the Television now he was suitably comforted. But he was still torn to whether he should expose himself or stay hidden at a distance. Sharing a burden always made Oliver feel better, despite the fact his life was all but the truth, but some matters were his to decide alone.

He lifted his coffee to his mouth, inhaling the rich scent of caffeine, something he tried not to indulge in regularly with the mentality that he could become addicted or reliant. Then the news headlines flashed across the screen and he almost dropped the beverage in shock. His eyes widened to the size dimes for the smallest of moments before his faced turned a dull blank mask.

The others picking up on his sudden change of facial expression looked at the display too and reacted in utter surprise._ A castaway story. The Truth of the Queen's Gambit Sinking. Sara Lance alive. _She hadn't changed much physically since they last saw her. Her long blonde hair, her slight frame, her bright blue eyes. She wore a simple singlet and yoga pants. But she was far more alert than she once was and darkness hid behind her crystalline blue eyes.

"But she's dead. We saw her die." Shado's soft voice punctured the silence surrounding them.

…/|\\...

Sara had felt fear many times; when the Queen's Gambit went down, when she was working in terror under Ivo, when Ivo tried to make Oliver chose between her and Shado, the unsuccessful attempt to take the Amazo, when the Amazo finally went down, when Billy Wintergreen was infected with Mirakuru and went on a murderous rampage with only Oliver and an unfortunately knocked out Slade to stop him, when she was first found by Nyssa and the League of Assassins.

But nothing, not even the thought of the hated Mirakuru, made her feel fear more then Ra's al Ghul. The man radiated an aura of hate and anger, an aura that demanded respect and loyalty from his underlying's, especially one that was currently dating his one of his precious daughters.

A special mission she had been told. A possible traitor high up in the league. She was to keep an eye on Malcolm Merlyn, and any possible breaches of the code by any of the league members in Starling City, including the possible acolytes that may or may not be training under a league member in Starling City.

Unsurprisingly it was her greatest wish to come back to Starling City, not as an assassin, but as Sara Lance. To see her family and friends. It would've been perfect but for the overshadowing fact that Ra's al Ghul sent her here, and that he could easily arrange for her to be brought back to the League of Assassins or taken care of permanently if he felt that she was useless in Starling City.

She sighed while she looked out at her home city calmly. Patiently waiting for her dad and Laurel to see her personally and bring her home. Home. She couldn't believe that she was finally here, in Starling City. Away from the Doctor Anthony Ivo, away from Lian Yu, away from the League of shadows.

It was just so unbelievably surreal. She remembered when she was with Ivo, when she thought she would come home, having being crucial in the saving of the Human Race. Later on Lian Yu with Oliver, she saw the two of them coming home together, with an amazing tale to tell their families.

It wasn't until she saw Oliver for what he had become – a survivor, a fighter, a killer – when she realised that it was never going to be that simple, not with what had happened in that past year. Her life just simply could not return to how it used to be.

Her experiences had changed her beyond recognition, she was no longer a young collage girl whom dreamt of the high life, she knew what it felt to have her life in the hands of another, and to have another's life in her hands. When she was picked up by Nyssa, she finally let go of any hopes of returning home.

There is only one way to truly leave the League and its encompassing code – Death. Despite being in Starling City as Sara Lance, she was still a member of the league of shadows, she must serve, and she cannot leave not until her inevitable death.

"Sara. My beautiful little girl." This one of the few times Quentin Lance's voice quivered. He wrapped his arms around her, no doubt trying to be comforting, but it took all her strength to not flinch and tense up. He was still in his police gear, obviously having driven from the station straight to Starling City Hospital. Laurel was dressed in sophisticated city clothes – Sara smiled – she had become a lawyer just like she always wanted to be.

"Dad." Her voice seemed strange to her own ears, showing more emotion than she had in many years. She then extracted herself from the embrace and couldn't help but beam at Laurel whom barely knew what to do with herself.

"You're alive. You're alive. My little sister is alive." She muttered over and over again. Gripping Sara in a tight hug.

The Dr. Lamb walked in a large stack of medical reports in his hands. After a quiet discussion with her father she was cleared to go home. She walked through the sterilised unnaturally white halls into the cold fresh night. The car park was filled with cars, she easily followed Quentin to his car.

Hand in hand with Laurel whom kept squeezing her arm as if to make sure she was really there. She let Laurel open the car door and slipped into the grey back seat pulling her into the seat with her. The car is surprisingly silent as Quentin Lance deftly navigates the crowded traffic. Sara remembered how stubborn her family was, she knew she had to get her 'story' out of the way before they became too suspicious and question everything she said.

"I- I know you want to know what happened to me." She intentionally made her voice sound shaky and emotional.

"Darling, you don't have to tell us now. That can wait, when you feel better, when you've had more time." Her father's voice was empathetic and understanding, only further invigorating her to get her cover story out of the way as soon as possible.

"No." She said a bit too forcefully. Laurel looked at her weirdly.

"I mean – I need to tell you, I will feel better if you can hear this now. I… I just want you to know the truth. I can't keep it to myself, I need to tell someone." She added a teary snuffle at the end for effect.

Predictably Laurel acted as exactly as Sara thought she would; A reassuring arm encircled around her comfortingly.

"You can tell us anything." Her voice was surprisingly steady and sympathetic, as if she could understand what Sara had gone through. Internally Sara laughed at the very thought, her older sister was always strong and sensible but she could not even begin to comprehend what had happened to her in the past five years.

And here comes the lies, Sara thought as she remembered the fabricated story she made to explain her absence, why she didn't come home, why she and Nyssa knew each other, how Oliver died. I can do this, Sara reassured herself, as she began the elaborate lie.

…/|\\...

**This chapter answers at least one of the constant questions that I have been asked :D**

**Hope you all like. Review. Thx.**

***Darkmoon111***


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"The Queen's Gambit. There was a storm, Robert and Ollie were talking about it when I walked into the room. Ollie took me my room and then the lights went out." Laurel involuntarily flinched at mention of her dead cheating boyfriend.

"Then there was this great roar and everything spun out of control." Sara continued. "I was pulled away from Ollie and slammed against the wall. I was sucked into the water, and everything blacked out." Sara saw her father's knuckles tighten on the steering wheel turning the skin taunt and white. It would probably be best if she told her recount quickly, lest Detective Lance crash the car.

"When I awoke I was on an island, barely one kilometre squared of land. I was there for many months. I think about a nine months, maybe more. Time was hard to measure there. I made a spear and caught fish for food, all the time making a raft from the bamboo on the island."

_I awoke to Anthony Ivo and his crazy pirates, forced to torture prisoners so I would not die, become another prisoner or their play toy_.

"One day the raft was finished, I stocked up whatever food that I could and paddled for about three days before the storm hit my raft and I was tossed into the sea yet again."

_I managed to get away from Ivo and free the other prisoners and then we made for Lian Yu – most of the prisoners died on the way – the sub machine guns made escape hard – only __Anatoly Knyazev, Hendrick von Arnim, Thomas__ Flynn and Peter made it, aside from myself._

Sara took a sharp breath, the next part was going to be hard but she had no choice, she promised Oliver that he would be remembered as a better man. Remembered as the Hero he became, not the selfish playboy he once was.

"I washed up on another island, a lot bigger than the last one. I'm not sure how big, I never really walked from one side to the other, but I do know the name of this Island. Lian Yu – it means purgatory in Mandarin. At least it does according to Oliver."

_He saved my life, risked everything. Killed the mercenaries when Ivo threatened me and Shado. Let himself get captured so we could attempt to take the Amazo so we could all go home._

Laurel pulled her arm away from her sister in surprise and disgust, "Ollie? What do you mean by Oliver?" She demanded almost angrily, unsurprisingly considering what Ollie put her through.

"Oliver also survived the sinking of the Queen's Gambit, but he washed up on the island of Lian Yu. He found me after only a few hours of consciousness. At the time I didn't realise how lucky I was to have found him."

_If I didn't find him, Wintergreen would have just killed me and the other escapees of the Amazo. The Mirakuru in his veins quickly turning him against his friends and human instincts._

"What do you mean lucky? That good for nothing playboy is nothing but bad news. What happened to him if he survived as well?" Quentin Lance voice was understandably harsh and angry at the mention of the man whom not only cheated on his oldest daughter but also seduced his youngest and had her taken away from him for five long years, even if the separation was unintentional.

"I was lucky because the island was fraught with all sorts of dangers. As to what happened to Oliver – he… he…" She swallowed hard. This was going to be harder than she thought. "He died. He saved me."

_He saved us all – __Anatoly Knyazev, Thomas__ Flynn, Slade, Shado, Yao Fei, and me. He took down Wintergreen despite the fact they were once friends, and died because we were all too weak to fight back or had already been defeated into unconsciousness._

A single tear fell and splashed on the leather seat. If only I knew then, what I know now, Sara thought, not for the first time, wishfully.

"I made another raft – as I couldn't bare to stay on the island any longer – despite Oliver's previous warnings that anyone whom tried never returned, but this time I was tossed into a reef and knocked my head hard. I was found by some fishermen. I couldn't remember my name, let alone where I was from. The next four years I spent in Shanghai." Taking a breath she continued, hoping that they would just buy the story without asking questions.

"The fishermen that found me worked for a large powerful rich company and the boss agreed to look after me until I regained my memories, after I made friends with his anti-social daughter. I learnt Mandarin and Cantonese, and worked in the translator department of the company. Three days ago I was in a car crash and hit my head again and when I awoke I remembered everything. Who I was, where I was from, what had happened – absolutely everything. I went to the US Embassy and came home."

_I was found by Nyssa, who pleaded with her father to keep me and induct me into the league of assassins. I fell in love with her and stayed rather than die. I served for almost four years before gaining this mission in Starling City._

Laurel hugged her tightly. "I'm just glad your home." Laurel whispered happily, despite still being angry for the manner Sara left – cheating on her boyfriend. The car remained surprisingly quiet throughout the rest of the trip. Inside Sara celebrated victory – they not only believed her, they didn't want any more details that could make her life harder.

This would make the lies easier. Keep it simple, Nyssa told her before she left, don't try and overcomplicate it, you'll just forget. And she, as usual, had been right. The car pulled outside Laurel's apartment block. They quietly rode up in the lift, Quentin Lance keeping his arm around her, as if to protect her from the dangerous world around them.

Laurel unlocked the door – which was a pretty pathetic lock, Sara noted – and ushered her inside. It hadn't changed much in five years, some of the chairs and tables were slightly more worn and the light fittings were new, but aside from that, it was almost exactly as she remembered it to be. But it wasn't as cosy as she reminisced it to be, if anything it was slightly overcrowded and almost all the windows and other exit points were annoyingly blocked by furniture or were ridiculously awkward to access. Sara walked into the lounge room, where the TV was on, telling her supposed story, minus the mentions of Oliver, to the rest of Starling City. At least this way she probably wouldn't have to repeat to too many times, everyone would have already heard it. She watched with interest as it switched onto the next story about some hooded 'Vigilantes'.

"Is that the case you are working on now, Dad?" Sara saw the way her father's face changed at the mention of these 'Hoods'.

"Yeah, the two of them have been terrorising the illegally wealthy. Threatening them, and when the criminals decide to not listen to them, they kill them and leave evidence of their crimes. As if they deserve to die." Quentin scoffed. "Certainly some of them have done things that would warrant it but they are killers, as against the law as the ones they hunt."

Sara watched as the media report told of an attack by these Vigilantes on James Holder three days, James Holder had apparently been placing defective smoke alarms in homes, particularly in the Glades, killing countless people in fires. Apparently the crime scene was different as the Vigilantes always killed their target by arrow or slash of a sword, never by a poisoned bullet.

Sara frowned, it was like a reminder of what happened with Slade and Oliver – the only effective archer and swordsman combination she had ever seen or heard of. She had seen quite a few league members attempt it, but they were never anywhere as effective as Slade and Oliver were.

Were. She still could not believe that gruff nigh invincible Slade and bright vibrant heroic Oliver were dead, but they weren't alive, Wintergreen had killed them. Sara could still hear the sickening thud as Slade was thrown against the wall of the Amazo, and then watched as Wintergreen began to slowly choke Oliver to death.

She remembered scrambling to help, Shado and Yao Fei had already got off the boat with Anatoly, on Slade and Oliver's insistence. She fell over some debris and was sucked down into the sea. The last thing she remembered was the sounds of Oliver half-yelling, half-choking her name while ineffectually punching the Mirakuru man in the face continuously.

Then the screen changed to show their detailed police sketches, and Sara's blood went cold, it took all her willpower to not change her facial expression. Impossible, they were both dead. But the green hood was unforgettable and paired with the skills the Vigilantes both displayed – there was only one answer.

Slade and Oliver were not only alive but in Starling City hunting down the illegally wealthy as Vigilantes. Why, Sara had no clue, but she intended to find out.

…/|\\...

They left the restaurant in silence, each caught up in their own tumultuous thoughts. They easily split into their two groups; Slade and Oliver going south with their hoods up acting like brothers that they practically were. While Yao Fei and Shado went west, playing the part of father and daughter, which they were at any rate. Each knew the route they were taking, making sure they both curved subtly meeting in south western part of Starling City.

It wasn't the Glades but it was not exactly affluent. The perfect out of the way little suburb that was as easily forgotten as its dreary inhabitants. One of Oliver's late father's abandoned warehouses was situated here, one of the three scattered around the city. The one in the Glades had been demolished for one of Tommy's night clubs and the other one was in a far more predominate suburb making it undesirable to be the hide-out for the Vigilantes.

The warehouse looked pretty much the same on the outside as it had been for the past few years; three metre high padlocked wire mesh gates, the four metre clearance space between the building, and the gate was still covered in dirt and weeds, old pallets leaned outside the concrete walls, colourful spray paint graffiti defacing the large dilapidated splintered wood doors.

The only noticeable change on the exterior were the replaced translucent foggy windows that only just allowed light to trickle through. Inside, however, was a completely different story. Gone was the cracked concrete and crumbling walls, the bare steel frames, the musty debris, and the hovering clouds of fetid dust.

The walls of the ground floor were now reinforced with thick sheets of steel, training equipment was spread out on the dark wooden floor, two large sparring arenas, tables of technological apparatus, a wall rack of various weapons, a massive copiously stocked medical bay.

The upper floor was sectioned off for living spaces such as a kitchen, dining, bathrooms, lounge, and bedrooms for both Yao Fei, and Shado. The basement below was cut into two rooms, one for Oliver and one for Slade. The furniture in all the rooms was close to Spartan, but still incredibly comfortable for people whom had lived on the ground for years on end.

Oliver was currently murdering dozens of tennis balls with his signature green arrows while Slade was sparring viciously with Yao Fei using bamboo poles. Shado was sharpening her midnight blue arrows beside the four glass cases; each holding their 'costumes'.

Oliver's was emerald green, Slade's was the darkest black, Yao Fei's was a combination of a dark green that was lighter than Oliver's, and a midnight blue. Shado's was dark blue, like the night sky. Each had a similar deep hood that covered their faces; Slade's however was tailored for more rapid movement needed for close combat that he specialised in.

Although neither Shado nor Yao Fei had yet to go out and hunt like Slade and Oliver, only being back up from afar, they knew that they would soon have no choice but to become 'public'. Letting both the police and the media realise their presence. That meant that the criminals of Starling City would also be aware of their existence. But they had no other option.

The Dark Archer was becoming even bolder, his acolytes were now appearing irregularly in the media. Although they knew he was Malcolm Merlyn, there was almost no concrete evidence or opportunities for assassination, even with their skills and upper hand of knowledge they had managed to gain. Most of Merlyn's acolytes were also unknown, making it even harder for Slade and Oliver to singularly hold them off while dealing with Merlyn at the same time.

The sharp sound of high heels upon the floor, so different to the soft pad of combat boots or bare feet that Slade, Oliver, Yao Fei and Shado preferred. Felicity Smoak had walked in from one of two side entrances that they used instead of the old large mouldy wooden doors.

She took her customary place on a comfy chair surrounded by some of the most high tech computers that they had 'borrowed' from A.R.G.U.S. Felicity was one of the few whom they trusted enough to allow her to work with them. Two A.R.G.U.S Agents; husband and wife, Diggle and Lyla also knew about their hideout.

Diggle acted as a personal bodyguard for Tommy Merlyn even though it was highly unnecessary and more a public face than anything else. He took the job in the hopes they would get information about the Undertaking from him and also to keep a close eye on Thea for Oliver.

Lyla however was one of the major operatives for A.R.G.U.S in Starling City, acting only on the direct orders of Amanda Waller. Lyla was allowed access to the lair despite the fact Oliver and Slade borderline hated Waller for the Flyers incident, unlike Yao Fei and Shado being the reasonable people they were held little grudge but that was not to say they placed any kind of trust in Amanda Waller and her associates.

When they first arrived in Starling City it quickly became apparent that they needed a technological assistant. Slade and Yao Fei were both equally incompetent with any technology that wasn't weapons, Shado and Oliver were better but Oliver needed to be in the field and Shado alone could not do all that needed to be done.

Simply none of them had the right skills for the technology that needed to be used for the operations they did. Felicity Smoak was rescued three times by them, and eventually they let her help – after sometime she was shown the hideout and was now a regular sight in the nights tapping away at the computer, and talking through the comms to them as they executed their mission.

Slade always acted irritated by her babbles but Oliver knew that he would never let anything or anyone harm her. When Felicity volunteered to play bait in the casino, he immediately tried to shoot the idea down. Only after Shado gave a rather lengthy rant was he convinced that there was no other choice. Slade took a long time to trust someone but when he did, there was nothing he wouldn't do for them.

Oliver felt the same as Slade but he understood that Felicity knew what she was doing; plus Oliver remembered how she was in the Past Timeline, there was no way he was betting against her. Felicity took in Oliver's murdered tennis balls and the vicious fighting on the sparring mat.

"This wouldn't happen to be about the recently returned amnesic castaway? Would it?" Felicity let out a nervous titter, suddenly noticing how tense the room had suddenly become.

"She died." Oliver's jaw was clenched so tightly it was a wonder the bone had not yet shattered.

"Well… The news must have got it wrong then." Felicity was feeling particularly frustrated by the vague answers she was getting today, "Unless you saw Sara after the Queen's Gambit, I feel justified to say that if you survived, Oliver, so could she."

"That's the problem, Felicity." Shado's voice was soft and quiet against the metallic sparking of the stone wheel she was using to sharpen her arrows. "We did. We first saw her about a year after Oliver first washed up on Lian Yu."

"Why am I not surprised?" Felicity rolled her eyes; typical, just typical that Sara not only survived and they found her and didn't say anything about it, "So, she is still alive – I don't see how that makes her dead."

"On our time in the Island we faced many enemies, some known like Flyer's Army of mercenaries, others were not as easily disconcerted as ones whom wished us ill." Yao Fei said calmly.

"We were betrayed – I won't even try and go into that particular messy affair. It's not exactly something that deserves repetition – Sara was with Oliver and me." Slade continued.

"We fought but he had the upper hand; Shado and Yao Fei were not there, Slade was knocked unconscious and Sara was sucked into the sea, by a stroke of luck I managed to kill him but we never found Sara again." Oliver finished with the kind of closed finality despite the highly irregular and undetailed story that just begged questioning.

"Well there you go. You never found her body, she obviously survived somehow and has finally gotten home. Don't understand why you are so angry about it though, someone not being dead is a good thing. Unless they are your mortal enemy or something. Not that Sara Lance is your mortal enemy or anything… You know what? I'll just be quiet now."

A slight smile made its way onto Oliver's serious face. "Her being alive isn't the problem, Felicity. It's where she's been all this time that's the problem."

"So… where she been?" Felicity made this cute scrunched up face, still unsure how they could be so angry about her being alive and what she's been doing. By Felicity's rational reasoning, if they didn't know she was alive, than how can they know where she was in the time between now and then? Oliver looked to Yao Fei to answer that precise question.

"We believe that the League of Shadows picked her up. More specifically Nyssa al Ghul."

Felicity was still confused, she had been working with them for months now and she never heard about the 'league of shadows'.

"I thought the 'league of assassins' was another one of those rumours to scare the governments." Diggle, although an A.R.G.U.S agent was more of military man a heart, rather than a spy. This made him get along very well with Yao Fei and Slade, both of which were former army men themselves, Slade having worked in the Australian Army before joining ASIS, and Yao Fei in the Chinese military which eventually led to him becoming a general.

Diggle often swung by at this time to check up on Felicity, give any information that he may have gathered on the Merlyns and inform Oliver on Thea's life and the progress of the rest of his untrustworthy family.

"Unfortunately the league is very much a real society, led under the ruthless tyranny of Ra's al Ghul, the creator and founder. For about three years we have all been hearing rumours about a 'Canary'. A female lover of Nyssa al Ghul, heir to the demon." Yao Fei replied.

"So you believe that Sara is this Canary." Diggle mused, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, and it's never a good indication when a League member, especially one of such calibre in Starling City. We already have the Merlyns to deal with, we don't need another, even if it is Sara Lance" Slade remarked.

"We need to prepare." Oliver voice seemed strangely detached.

Slade nodded, "We have no choice."

Shado, Yao Fei, Felicity and Diggle exchanged confused looks. The two of them really acted like brothers sometimes, always knowing what each other was thinking.

"Prepare for what?" Shado was curious enough to ask.

"We need to start taking down more of the list and prepare for Oliver to 'return'. If Malcolm Merlyn finds out who Sara is, he will bring the undertaking forward and eliminate Sara. She may be good but she's alone and with at least three acolytes, his own skills and on home turf he won't be defeated by her alone." Slade gruffly stated.

"We're going out, we won't need comms." Oliver and Slade picked up their vigilante personas and weapons and left.

"Do you know what they are doing?" Diggle frowned.

"No clue." Felicity and Shado said in unison.

…/|\\...

**Good evening my precious readers. As you can see I've updated. A few new revelations, and plot devices in this chapter so read carefully. Please tell me what you think in a review and I'll try my best to respond. Thank you all for your support. See you next Wednesday!**

**PS. Special thanks to my best friend and Beta **_**LittleMissThunderbird**_** – go check out her awesome LOTR fanfic **_'A Golden Bond'_** – whom puts up with my failures of first Drafts, and makes sure that my fanfiction is readable.**

***Darkmoon111***


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Once outside Oliver and Slade split up, free-running on the concrete and metal rooftops easily, traversing the urban jungle effortlessly speedily. After several minutes, the two saw no sign of stopping despite being near their destination. Oliver landed on a fire escape, grabbing a metal pole to swing onto a gargoyle that rested above one of the old buildings in the centre of the city, surrounded by skyscrapers, but despite its beauty, the edifice looked fragile against these towering structures.

Oliver flipped backwards, free climbing up the decorative wall with no trouble. Slade smirked and started using the flag poles on the building as monkey bars, swinging large distances, just managing to grab each pole before he could fall to his death. And this is how it was. The two of them doing dangerous stunts, each trying to outdo one another in progressively hazardous ways. The city was their playground, to take out their anger and pain.

Eventually Laurel's apartment came into view and Oliver stood alone on the roof outside on the opposite building watching the happy reunited family. Laurel and Sara talking quietly about Laurel's work as a lawyer and Quentin was getting a drink to celebrate the occasion. Oliver watched silently, wondering if his family would be so overjoyed to see him.

Thea would, he knew. But Moria would try make it like it was before he was away, and her new husband… He really wished he didn't even exist – Another one of those little differences between this world and the Past. Like Wintergreen still being alive, Sara escaping the Amazo with Anatoly Knyazev before Lian Yu was bombed, Wintergreen injecting himself with Mirakuru in a jealous rage to gain power before predictably betraying Slade and Oliver. Little changes like that.

Oliver patiently waited. For over an hour he waited, not moving or even breathing heavily, like he was taught. He watched as Sara pleaded tiredness and moved herself to the spare bedroom. She flittered out of sight behind dark curtains. The light turned off and Oliver smiled. It was but five minutes later when he sensed a presence behind him. He turned his head slightly to acknowledge the Black Canary.

Sara wore a close fitting tight black leather suit, a short leather jacket, she wore a tousled blonde wig and a simple black eye mask. A steel bo-staff grasped in her leather clad hands. Sara took in Oliver's Emerald Archer attire – tight fitting dark green leather, a deep cloth hood, a bow in his hands, a quiver full of his signature emerald arrows on his back, mini arrow fletchers on his gauntlets and no doubt a cache of other weapons such as knifes, guns or knockout darts hidden upon his body.

"Nice to see your still alive, Sara – or should I call you the Black Canary." His voice was modulated through a computer chip on his hood.

"How long?" Her voice was resigned to the anger of her former lover.

"We've been hearing reports on a new member of the league that went by the name Black Canary. I studied the photos, only a few months ago I remarked about how you reminded me of someone – and when I saw the news two hours ago – it seems I was right."

"Oliver." She closed her eyes. "I know you're angry, but I couldn't contact you – the league forbid it. I didn't even know you were still alive until I saw a news report on two vigilantes that not only matched you and Slade's description and saw the police sketches of your hood."

He sighed and smile wryly under his hood, "We're all kinds of messed up aren't we?"

She laughed nervously, "But we're alive."

"For now." Oliver tilted his head grimly, "Does she know?"

"Who?" Sara tried to appear calm but her heart beat sped up.

"Nyssa al Ghul, does she know you've been sent to Starling to look into Malcolm Merlyn." Oliver felt unusually smug seeing Sara's carefully controlled face change into one of stunned shock.

"How did you…? Where did you…? I…" She was rendered utterly speechless from his extensive knowledge – knowledge that was meant to be completely secret.

"Malcolm Merlyn was the one who planted the bomb in the Gambit so I researched everything I could on him. He spent two years in Nanda Parbat – which is little known for housing the League. After his escapades as the Dark Archer, I originally thought he still had ties to Ra's al Ghul but after he brought in his followers to try and take us down I knew that he was no longer involved in the League as he was breaking your precious code."

With a sly sidewards glance he continued, "I knew Ra's al Ghul would send someone to investigate, and when you arrived in Starling city I put the two together and worked it out. And as for Nyssa – it isn't exactly unknown that The Canary is her lover."

Oliver acted as if it was no big deal but Sara realised that despite the appearance of trust between the two, there was an underlying threat to his words – he knew what she was here to do and he wouldn't hesitate to have her dealt with if she began to sprout off his secrets to the world. How easily he could make her death look like Malcolm Merlyn's work, she didn't know. But she never would underestimate the Emerald Archer – she learnt that costly lesson on the Island with scars and dangerous memories to prove it.

"So that's why you haven't revealed yourself to your family." Sara deciding to ignore the veiled threat.

"Oliver Queen died on Lian Yu. I cannot go home. I cannot be what I was before – even for pretend. This is who I am and what I have become. They can never know or begin to understand. They will still see me as the person I was before. The playboy who thought of no one but himself. The selfish brat whom let you come aboard the Queen's Gambit and tore your life apart." His voice was harsh and unforgiving, showing the hate he still kept for himself.

"And Thea?" Sara knew his weaknesses all too well.

He turned away, eyes closed, flinching, "What can I do? Tell her and give her false hope that one day I might come home."

"You will eventually come home, Oliver. Alive or dead. There is no helping it. You know that."

"She will still see me – she will _want_ to see me – as the person I was before."

"You fear she will hate you."

"I cannot lose her."

"I know. I feel the same about my family. But sometimes you must make sacrifices – You may think you're long gone. That you can never be something good. You were always better than me, you never would have let yourself be ruled by another no matter the situation. You don't have to be seen as something bad in Thea's eyes – it's up to you. Tell her and let her decide herself about your morality or let her find out another way and hate you for lying."

Oliver contemplated her sharp words seriously, he knew all about the questionable actions that Sara had done working under the tyranny of Anthony Ivo and suspected what she had done as the Black Canary in the League of Shadows. If there was one person whom would be open about his morality and heroism or lack thereof it would be her.

She had known him before the Island, met him in the transition of playboy to warrior, and could truly see what he had become now. Seconds of silence stretched out to minutes as neither one of them wished to discuss the other potentially more dangerous subjects such as what Oliver was doing as a Vigilante or what Sara intended to do about the Merlyn situation.

"You know she's right, Kid." Sara jumped as Slade spoke from the shadow that he had been sulking in for the whole conversation.

"I should have known that you wouldn't be far from your dear brother." The slightly sarcastic tone at the end of her voice was like candy dipped in poison. Sara never really liked Slade at all, let alone trusted him. Although she tolerated him for Oliver's sake that wouldn't mean she could not take every opportunity to whip him with barbed comments, and on a side note, she didn't appreciate being snuck up on.

"Very witty. Did they make that outfit just for you or did you have to kill several innocent bulls for enough leather." Slade felt very much the same about Sara as she felt about him.

"Funnily enough, no. But at least mine was actually tailored to fit me. Yours looks like you've butchered a few Kevlar vests and rags."

"At least mine is bulletproof. Yours looks like you'd rather seduce your target then kill them. Did you have to pay a prostitute to get the patent rights for such a slutty outfit?"

"You-" Sara started.

"Stop." Slade took in a breath ready to follow up on the insult seeing 'stop' as Oliver taking his side.

"Both of you."

And then decided it was better for his health not to say anything at Oliver's harsh tone, Target practise was tomorrow and Oliver could and would destroy him if he so chose when it came to throwing objects with deadly accuracy.

"As amusing as it is to watch you bicker like five year olds. Sara your sister intends to check on you soon – you have to get back." While they were arguing Oliver had been watching Laurel and Quentin – using his skill as an excellent lip reader to see what they intended to do.

Sara sighed and gave him a quick hug. "You will do what is right – you always do."

She whispered gently into her former love's ear before jumping easily across the gap in the buildings before effortlessly lowering herself down the building through the use of a fire escape and some well-placed windows frames onto the her window sill and sliding her slim body through the open window back into her room.

…/|\\...

Thea really regreted wearing the three inch black stilettos. But they simply matched perfectly with her short black A-line cocktail dress which featured a gorgeous sweetheart neckline with a double chiffon layered draped skirt. She pulled her favorite blue trench coat around her as she walked through the streets alone, making her way to her step-brother's newest club, so that he could take her home.

She shivered as a sharp gust of wind tore through the brightly lit streets that she was walking on. Checking her iPhone she winced as the luminous display showed just how late it was, if she didn't hurry she would miss her brother at the club. She decided that she would just have to risk the back alley short cuts that she would only usually use with someone she trusted with her which rarely happened as the amount of people that she trusted were astonishingly small.

Thea was used to being alone. It was sadly nothing new for her. Ever since the sinking of the Queen's Gambit which resulted in the loss of her father and brother, she had been relatively alone. Her mother pulled away into isolation, locking herself away in her room away from the rest of the world and her only daughter.

A year later her now icy cold heart was won over by an equally cold and isolated Malcolm Merlyn. Tommy, Ollie's former best friend, became her brother truly in a legal sense, and for a few months they leant against each other but after Tommy committed a particularly stupid stunt; Malcolm and Moria decided enough was enough and he was to be sent away.

For two years he had no contact with his family, halfway across the world and with whatever they made him do there, matured him beyond what Thea thought was possible. Tommy joined Merlyn Consolidated, the merged company name of Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Global. He proved himself rather apt at business and was soon the head of the entertainment sector – owning and running three most popular clubs in Starling; Sable, Venom and Bane, as well as enquiring to open another in either Gotham or Central City.

When he left she was more alone than ever, if it wasn't for Tommy's girlfriend, Laurel, she would have certainly fallen in to a devastating path of self-destruction, unable to function as a proper human being – fuelled by drugs and alcohol.

Laurel took her under her wing and helped her in both school and at home, helped her ignore the fact her parents didn't care about what she did. Thea intended to do a course in fashion design in collage and was still competing in archery at Laurel's insistence and her step-father's interest. But as time passed Laurel became even busier with work and Tommy, with less time for her.

At school she had 'friends' but they were all shallow and brainless always pestering her to go and drink or do drugs with them. She ignored their pleads and continued to forge her own path alone. It was only a year and half ago did she meet her best friend and trusted confidant – Rose Wilson.

They were so alike; confident, stubborn, sassy, and shared unusual interests in archaic weaponry and the latest fashion. It was through her that Thea meet her boyfriend, Roy Harper, and Sin her only other friend that she trusted with seeing her as something other than Thea Queen the confident rich teenager, but as Thea the insecure isolated lonely girl.

The howling wind felt colder and louder, the buildings in the alleyway she was walking through seemed to be closing in on her and the shadows around her appeared darker than the night itself. She shivered and began to walk faster, trying to escape the passageway as quickly as humanly possible on her stupid high heels.

She felt a sinking feeling of being watched. She glanced behind her and saw a dark shape following her, swiftly she bent down and tore off her accursed shoes and began to run barefoot through the street as fast as she could. A domineering hooded figure blocked the light at the end of the alley, she backed up into a hard well-muscled chest behind her.

Faster than she could blink she was shoved up against the wall and the world exploded into darkness. Thea stumbled onto the ground and looked up through her messy hair, the backstreet was empty and something was pressed into her hands – a thick envelope. Her body was shaking as she scooped up her shoes and burst out of the lane.

She hailed a Taxi and with trembling fingers placed some money into the driver's hands, telling him to take her home. As she began to calm down, her face returned its colour and her body stopped quivering. She had been slightly paranoid since the attack on her – but last time Roy rescued her – this time she had no one. This was almost certainly the oddest encounter she had ever had – usually they wanted money or her body – but these people just gave her something.

The envelope was made of simple white paper, a little crushed from her clenched hands, but common and most likely untraceable. She turned it over and her heart stopped. On the paper in a conversant swirling script it said Speedy.

A sick feeling of sadness and impossibility swept over her. It was her nickname that Ollie gave to her years ago because she used to always chase him around everywhere. And if that wasn't personal enough it was written in the all too familiar handwriting of her late brother, Ollie. She shakily opened the envelope, to reveal a note filled with Ollie's handwriting and a necklace. Her face slowly lost colour as she read the letter:

_Speedy – Thea_

_I know that you might hate me by the end of this letter, but after you were attacked, I couldn't let you stay in ignorance. The Queen's Gambit was not an accident, a bomb was planted below deck with the intent to kill Dad, and unfortunately it succeeded but I survived. Because of this I couldn't go home for the fear that I would be hunted and killed. _

_We have some very powerful and cunning enemies whom would not hesitate to destroy our whole family if it came to that, so that their crimes can remain unknown. I ask for you to say nothing to Mum – she will only worry; or to Tommy, or Malcolm – they are both being watched by the enemy. Nowhere is safe in the house and trust no one; not Mum, Malcolm, Tommy, Laurel, Roy, Sin or Sara, (Aside from your best friend Rose Wilson, she and her family is unquestionably trustworthy). For your safety I have friends watching you from afar whom will keep you out of trouble. _

_I Love You and I will try my hardest to return home soon._

_Oliver._

_P.S. The arrow head is a Hozen. In Buddhism it symbolizes reconnection and I hope one day soon it will reconnect me to you. I Love You._

A rush of emotion threatened to overcome Thea, Oliver was alive. Thea jumped as the Taxi suddenly stopped at the front of the Queen Mansion. She slipped the letter in her pocket of her blue trench coat making sure that it would look as if nothing was in her pocket and slipped the Hozen around her neck.

Feeling the unfamiliar weight against her chest but Thea felt lighter than she had in years, Oliver was alive. Not yet home but alive, and even with the knowledge of the threatening enemy hovering, waiting to strike, she could not help but feel safer then she had since the Gambit sinking. Oliver was watching over her like he had when they were young children.

…/|\\...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**A.N – Grant is nineteen, Rose is seventeen (same age as Thea) and Joe is twelve.**

Oliver watched from the fire escape above as Thea held the envelope in her hands as she hailed a Taxi. That was one job done, and now another – if Slade was willing to take the risk. He looked over at his partner, whom looked unusually nervous and tense under a thick façade of emotionlessness.

The naturally gruff man tried to hide how much he loved his children, thoroughly convinced that it was weakness to let his feelings show, but Oliver knew that they were everything to him. He'd hate to see what would happen if one of his children was attacked by anyone, lest to say there would be many unexplained unidentifiable bodies for the police to handle – if there were any bodies left at all.

"It's up to you, brother." Oliver directly called him brother only when he was being very serious and when they were playing Vigilantes – it was easier to call out to each other that way then use any name that may be connected back to them and it further confused anyone whom was trying to work out their real identities as if both of them being officially declared as dead wasn't misleading enough.

"We will give it to Rose. Grant probably still hates me and Joe is too stubborn to confide in Grant and Rose – he might not even believe that the letter was from me." Slade was determined that if Oliver had gone through this, he would too. A small GPS like device appeared in Slade's hand. Oliver looked over at the colour coded dots that flickered on the screen.

"She's at home, alone. Grant's still at work and Joe's at a friend's house. Now's the best time to do it, tonight, before Grant finishes work." Oliver looked at Slade cautiously, knowing that Slade didn't like mention of Grant's decidedly dangerous work, training to go into the American Special forces as soon as Rose was old enough to look after Joe herself, which was about to happen far too soon in Slade's eyes.

But Oliver refrained from reminding Slade that he joined the Australian Army illegally when he was sixteen and Grant was already nineteen and would be twenty by the time Rose was legally old enough to look after Joe.

Oliver jumped down into the dirty alley and uncovered two motorbikes behind the malodourous dumpster. Two beautiful matching ducati diavel bikes; Slade's was pure black and Oliver's was crimson red and midnight blue. They both swapped their deep hoods for common black motorcycle helmets, and speed out easily through the streets of Starling City, weaving effortlessly through the heavy congested traffic.

Their fake number plates and dark headgear meant that they wouldn't be tracked or caught if something went down, and as something always seemed to go wrong in their line of work, it never hurt to play it safe – even if they weren't planning on doing anything particularly illegal.

They stopped outside a small neon lit street, between dirty dark back alleys from unclean shady restaurants and gloomy apartment buildings that hadn't been updated in decades. They rested their striking bikes behind another convenient dumpster making sure they were well hidden from the casual observer.

They easily climbed up the side of the building using the fire escape, water piping, windows and cracks in the plaster as foot and hand holds. They quickly entered a window on the fourth floor, quickly picking the lock and slipping silently through the deep blue curtains. They ended up in a small bedroom, clearly Joe's from the school sports equipment strewn across the floor and the dirty school uniform half-heartedly draped over a vinyl and splintered wood chair.

They walked into the hallway passing two more rooms; the first was obviously Rose's with the messes of school books, fashionable clothes neatly hanging in the open wardrobe, and a set of beautifully made katanas, far smaller and more slender but akin to the one's Slade used to this day in a bracket on the cream wall.

The other room evidently was Grant's which was simple white with almost Spartan like furniture and the only personalized part of the room was a small set of photographs and a similar pair of Katanas on the wall but slightly bigger and thicker than Rose's. Slade walked over to the photo's unable to keep away from the memorabilia of a past life.

There were four; the newest, was with Rose, Joe and Grant after Adeline left and they first arrived into Starling City. Another of the photos was of Grant in his Army uniform just after he was accepted into training which was barely a six months before he forced his uncaring mother to give him legal custody of his siblings.

The next photo was of Slade, Rose (12), Grant (14), and Joe (7) on the beach in Australia just before the fateful mission to Lian Yu. The last photo was of Slade, looking ridiculously young and funnily similar to Grant, and Adeline on their wedding day when Slade was just eighteen and Adeline was twenty. While Slade was lost in his memories Oliver tactfully studied the swords on the wall.

The phrase like father like son was highly relevant here as he could see the blades was well looked after and sharper than any knife despite the sweat stains on the leather bindings. The hilt was inscribed with _Grant Wilson_, in the exact same flowing script that Slade's had and no doubt Rose's did too.

"I gave them a set of swords on their twelfth birthday, the age I was when I brought my own first set." Slade's voice was sad, and Oliver knew why, Slade still regretted not being able to be with his children and this was a physical reminder as Joe was long past his twelfth birthday, in fact he was heading quickly towards his thirteenth and Slade hadn't continued the tradition of presenting each of his children with a pair of some of the greatest made swords in the world. Swords forged by the Guild of Ancient Blacksmiths that would, with care and love; never break, rust, dull or bend.

"It won't be long now. This is the first step, prepare the world for our return, cover our tracks, we can win this. We can take back our lives. Only a few more targets left before you're safe to be free of this mess." Oliver said, convinced that once this was over Slade wouldn't have to worry about the whole Vigilante thing anymore and go home to his children.

"But many more for you. Eradicating everything and everyone to do with Ivo and Flyers was only the first step, I won't abandon you, mate. We're brothers. We will take down Merlyn and his acolytes, and destroy those on that list of yours. I won't, I can't go back until this is over for both us. You stuck by me, I'll stick by you." Slade's face seemed far away, as if in memory, having no clue how un-Slade-like he sounded at that moment.

"If I didn't know you, I'd say you're getting sentimental," Oliver laughed at the sudden indignant look on Slade's face, "Come on, _mate_. We have a job to do."

They both ghosted across the hallway and into the small kitchenette, dining and combined lounge room; the TV was showing the latest clever crime drama and Rose Wilson sat on the edge of her seat as the murderer was about to be revealed, dramatic music rose to a crescendo and then power was cut. The lights flickered off and the TV blinked out.

Rose stifled a scream and jumped up; moonlight from outside already filtered by the city's smog and the light curtains was barely enough for her to make out two figures on either side of her. She scrambled away, trying to get out, only to be backed against the wall. Something slammed into the wall beside her and suddenly the lights flickered on, blinding her. By the time she could see again, the two men were gone and an envelope had been pushed into her clenched sweaty hands.

.../|\\...

Sara nervously palmed her hands against her pants, the Queen mansion coming into view. She had to do this right, if Malcolm suspected she knew, she doubted that she would live for very long. Malcolm could have many allies, allies that she could not escape from, not as Sara Lance.

Although Oliver and Slade may help her out occasionally, after all they were both had similar goals, but even they couldn't do everything. They had other things to worry about then her mission. Play the scared Sara Lance, leave the Canary behind, become a lost girl glad to be home. She thought to herself.

Laurel in the seat beside her, looking far more pleased to see the mansion than Sara thought was right. She was definitely missing something here. The chauffeur opened the door and she stepped out, to see Tommy looking like Christmas came early.

He rushed past her and twirled Laurel around, holding her far closer than what Sara thought was proper in front of his parents. That must have been why Laurel was so keen to go to the Mansion – to see her precious boyfriend, as if he wasn't the step-brother and former best friend of her previous boyfriend. A bitter taste befouled her mouth, Sara knew only too well that Tommy trained at Nanda Parbat and, although he was a very low level member, did not approve of their relationship.

It was bad enough she was an assassin but with Tommy and Malcolm near Laurel too – she feared the worst would eventually happen too her, especially when Oliver came back. She knew Laurel would eventually forgive him and they would be friends once more and she was more than aware of Slade's plan to play Oliver's bodyguard for the media so they could continue their Vigilante escapades.

She also knew that with Slade and Oliver together, Shado and Yao Fei would find a plausible way into their ordinary lives so that their little Vigilante meetings wouldn't be too suspicious. Laurel was already in deep water and it was only going to get deeper as time continued, and Sara feared for her. Feared that eventually she would be caught up in the dangerous game that they played with their lives.

Sara was soon reintroduced to Moria Merlyn, whom was looking regal and calm, like Royalty among peasants, acting as if she was far above them all. And then Malcolm Merlyn, whom Sara had to restrain herself from punching him in the face and screaming the truth of the Queen's gambit to the world.

But as highly satisfying as that would be, it could be counterproductive. Her mission was to get close to the Merlyn's and find out their motives which despite the disapproval for her sister's relationship with this family, it would make things far easier for her to get close to them, to gain their elusive trust or at least convince them that she wasn't a worthwhile threat to their plans.

She entered the mansion, almost stunned by the outright opulence of the place. She now remembered why she hated the place. Not only did it remind her of how she used to feel, and how she used to be; it reminded her that the people around her had changed as well. Oliver would probably outright hate the place now.

Stop. Don't think about him anymore, he is no longer your ally. Sara hated to think that Oliver was no longer a friend, but the league had drilled into her that you could never trust anyone, especially the people you thought you knew, it was them that the worst betrayals came. And remembering the look on Slade's face when Wintergreen betrayed them reminded her of how easily betrayal came from those closest every time she let her mind accept Oliver as a trustworthy ally. Damn it! Back on Oliver, think of something else, Sara scolded herself.

Thea ran down the grand staircase and to her surprise she seemed almost suspicious of her, like she was an enemy, like she was somehow untrustworthy. Thea was wearing the usual latest fashion clothes but no jewelry aside from a black rope cord that hung around her neck but the pendant itself was hidden by her stylishly ruffled t-shirt.

Her head was held confidently high and her subtle body language indicated a great happiness as well as unusually carefully hid wariness. To Sara's minor surprise Thea's eyes flickered oddly at her like she was understanding something for the first time.

"Sara." Thea stated the word like it was the explanation of her whole life story. And Sara supposed to Thea that was all she was; another face, another name, someone else to pretend to care about.

"It's nice to see you alive." Her voice was so sad and wistful.

Sara internally winced for thinking that Thea didn't care about her but rather Sara was just another painful reminder of her brother. Far worse than the memories of this house or Oliver's room but a true physical aide-mémoire that he was never coming back, at least he wasn't to her current knowledge.

It appeared that Oliver had yet to decide whether to tell her the truth or not. If he didn't do so it would be understandable and cautious. Sara internally frowned, something was different about Oliver now that she really thought about it, those two words were not something that she would've associated with Oliver despite the time gap.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Sara's voice cracked with unusual emotion.

Thea unfolded her arms and slowly wrapped her up in an emotional hug, to Sara's surprise Thea whispered four almost inaudible yet electrifying words in her ear, "I know about Oliver."

Sara looked at her in shock, it appeared that she had misjudged Thea's wariness but Oliver was still undecided last night, when would he have been able to get the message across? Unless Oliver decided to tell her straight after their little talk, and if so just how much does she know about the situation.

She wasn't running screaming in the opposite direction or trying to kill Malcolm so she mustn't know everything because Oliver may have superhuman control but Sara doubted Thea had the same patience. But still the question of just how much the Queen girl knew, pulled and pushed in Sara's mind curiously.

As Thea pulled away Sara noticed with a shock that the necklace was a hozen, and not just any hozen – it was The Hozen that lead them to the Mirakuru in the Japanese submarine on Lian Yu. And the only way Thea could have gotten her hands on that was if Oliver gave it to her.

"Will you be joining us for lunch, Sara?" Moria, ever the gracious host, offered.

"Thank you, Mrs. Merlyn, I would be delighted to join you."

The whole company seemed to be swept as if by a strong cold north wind – that Sara suspected was called Malcolm Merlyn from his subtle suggestions of the present time – into the dining room, along with any hopes Sara had of hoping this would be easy.

Rasia seated them down in the magnificent lavish dining room, and brought out plates of fine food that Sara wouldn't even begin to name, let alone know what was in it. After some discussion – the usual compliments of the food and drink, the weather, daily activities – the conversation finally made its wounding way to her.

"So, Sara, what do you plan on doing now you're back?" Moria acted as if she cared but the question was rather callous for her, and immediately Sara knew that Moria would have preferred anyone else on that boat to survive the unfortunate accident but her. A reminder of just how alike Ollie and Robert were – selfish cheaters.

"I've only been back for a day, and that thought has not yet crossed my mind." Her tone was quiet but somehow regretful, like a reminder of the pain she went through in the last five years.

"You must have some plans?" Malcolm pressed. Sara knew this tactic, Malcolm was using Moria to double team on her, forcing answers from her. He feared that she may have knowledge of the Truth of the Queen's Gambit sinking.

"Honesty I didn't really know what I wanted to do before, now I have even less of an idea. Perhaps something in language, I speak Mandarin and Cantonese quite fluently now." She said still keeping to the Shanghai story. After her deflection of the question, the topic changed away from her and the rest of lunch went rather smoothly but Sara knew that Malcolm was not yet done with questioning her yet.

…/|\\...


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**See end of chapter for notes**

Once the plates had been cleared away by the ever present kindly Rasia, somehow the group had gravitated back towards the entrance room of the house once more. Thea had discreetly disappeared upstairs muttering something about getting her bag from her room.

Laurel and Tommy had also vanished but unlike Thea it was far more public, Tommy practically dragging Laurel to his room while she laughed more care freely than Sara had thought her serious responsible sister was capable of. Moria and Malcolm were her only company as Rasia left to take care of whatever domestic trouble had occurred during lunch.

"Is there anything we can do?" Moira actually seemed genuine in the offer.

"It's okay, it wasn't your fault. I made the decision to go on the boat, Oliver may have offered but it was still my fault. None of us could have foreseen such a tragic event. It was unfortunate but it was just another part of life. I gave up trying to blame anyone long ago – it wasn't a God or Oliver or even myself. It was life and I've accepted that even if others haven't."

Sara tried to smile wryly but failed, despite her excellent control over emotion, nothing could stop her from feeling a great degree of sadness and vulnerability when it came to the Queen's Gambit.

"If there is anything at all…" Moria compelled.

"I understand."

"I Have… I heard that Oliver…" Moria seemed unable to complete the sentence.

Playing the part of a traumatized victim, Sara closed her eyes as if against the pain.

"I saw him just over year after the sinking of the Gambit." She choked on the words like they pained her. Remembering his words that he entrusted to her before their highly unsuccessful attempt to take Ivo's freighter, Sara continued hesitantly.

"I… He wanted you to know that he was different. He wasn't selfish anymore, he actually cared about everyone else more than himself. When I was with him; he got our food, our water, tended to wounds, made sure we had fire and shelter. There was even a time when we were attacked by wolves, and there wasn't enough time to run away or for both of us to climb to safety – he grabbed our only weapon – a knife – telling me to climb the tree while he fought them off."

A slightly insane giggle escaped her mouth hysterically at her next thought, "Can you imagine, Oliver fighting wolves. But he did, he saved me and warded off the wolves with nothing but a knife and desperation. He saved me."

Tears fell seemingly uncontrollably and Sara mimicked quivering to add to the overall effect of the lie. She looked at Moira through her light eyelashes and messy blonde-brown hair, the mother's hand was over her mouth and tears threatened to ruin her perfect make-up and calm composure.

Malcolm comfortingly put a warm arm around his grieving tearful wife, which to Sara whom knew exactly what the man was capable of, looked slightly odd. He would have almost looked tame, if it wasn't for his perpetually ridged stance and his emotionless icy eyes.

But despite his coldness, Sara could tell that Malcolm Merlyn not only bought the elaborate fabricated story but dismissed her as no longer a threat to his precious little Undertaking. Probably convinced that the Hoods were far more a hazard to him than any castaway girl whom was probably wholly injudicious and oblivious in his eyes.

Sara, rather proud of her success with the fictional story, decided to fall completely silent and look wretchedly at the richly carpeted ground as if it was Oliver's perfectly carved gravestone. Then a creak upstairs alerted her to Thea's presence, whom acted as if she hadn't heard the conversation, but Sara could tell she had heard everything and that was only she knew the surprise and anger hidden behind her eyes was because she knew Oliver was alive.

It didn't surprise her, Oliver could be nigh unreadable when he put his mind to it before he even ended up on the island, the only problem was Oliver was usually never bothered to put any energy into a lie and act, convinced he was above everyone else, like the egotistic playboy he once was.

Thea had pulled on a blue trench coat with a board black belt, a small black sequined shoulder bag hung around her body, the hozen taking pride of place at her neck, no longer hidden by her shirt it looked strangely out of place on the ever fashionable teenager.

"I haven't seen that necklace before." Moira said, trying to act as if she was feeling perfectly normal but failing miserably even in Thea's untrained eyes.

"Ollie gave it to me before my first Archery contest. He said it would bring me good luck." Her voice was thoughtful and full of longing.

"Oh." Moira said quietly, emotions surrounding her dead son and husband was precautious at the best of times but with the story Sara had just contrived she was close to irrepressible tears.

"Are you going out, Thea?" Malcolm asked diplomatically changing the conversation away from the potentially dangerous waters of the sinking of his former best friend and his son.

"I'm going over to Rose's. She has to go to some private government building for information about her dad, now that it's been the allocated time since he died, she can finally learn what happened to her father without lawyers and government people all over them like a pack of hungry piranhas or the nosy paparazzi just outside the courtrooms. I'm going to be her best friend and a shoulder to cry on. After all I know what it's like to lose a dad." The last sentence was morbidly bitter, for anyone, let alone a seventeen year old girl.

"I should be going to, I promised dad that I would not 'overextend' my 'reintegration' into 'society'." Mimicking the quotation marks in ridiculously serious voice got a strangled laugh from Thea, whom knew exactly how protective Quentin Lance would get around his daughters from all the time she spent with Laurel.

"Sara… come by my office within the next week, I would like to talk to you." Malcolm said, and Sara felt her insides melt into a congealed mess – maybe her story wasn't as believable as she first thought.

"How about Monday? I have to go see my mother in Central City this weekend." Sara preferred setting the date to Malcolm's little talk, whether it was trivial or not, it never hurt to be cautious.

"My secretary will organize the time." Sara fought the shivers running down her spine as Malcolm smiled one of those creepy smiles that never quite reach the eyes.

As Sara walked out through the grand double wooden doors of the Queen Mansion, Thea followed and Moria called out something that chilled Thea to the bone, "Tell the Wilson's to come over for dinner tomorrow night."

The Wilsons – Rose Wilson – Slade Wilson. Sara's mind jumped to quick conclusions realizing that maybe her judgments of both Oliver and Thea were wrong. Sara had never trusted Slade at all, something about him made her feel as if he was the enemy, the true threat. No matter how close Oliver and Slade were, something in her very soul felt as he was not someone to trust. He was someone to fear, someone to fight, someone to _kill_.

Slade was not a man that was very sentimental or emotional. The fact that he had children surprised her, and the children being in Starling and Rose being best friends with Thea startled her even more so.

Did Oliver and Slade play god and make them meet? Or was it coincidence as they are both the same age? Were the Wilson children aware of their fathers continued existence? Did they know what their father did for a living? So many unanswerable questions filled her mind but Sara decided to answer just one. As they both walked down the stairs Sara spun around and pinned Thea against the decorative column.

"Be careful, Thea, you're playing with things that shouldn't be. Play with Wilson's and you will get burned. They are not to be trusted, no matter what Oliver tells you." Her voice was low but a deadly calm.

Thea straightened and pushed her away, "I've known Rose for over a year, far longer than I've had contact with Oliver – besides what do you know about the Wilson's?"

"Their father Slade was not a man to trifle with, and I doubt his children are any better. You're playing fire, your life is already endangered, and being friends with Rose will only exasperate an already precautious situation."

Thea now outright stepped far away from her and hissed quietly but poisonously, "And tell me a good reason why I should trust you over my brother? Because I can't think of one. Stay out of my life, my choices are my own and no blonde bimbo is going to tell me who I can and cannot make friends with."

Thea stalked away angrily, slamming the door of the luxurious limousine, before instructing the driver in short cold words to take her to her away. Sara stood slightly off-put by Thea's rather venomous attitude and watched as the car left, cursing as this left her without a proper ride home.

Unfortunately for Sara it appeared that Thea was just as stubborn and unyielding as her older brother especially when it came to Wilsons. Sara didn't know why she felt so wary around Slade. He had never specifically done anything to gain such unreasonable suspicions but it was like a small voice in her mind was telling her that Slade Wilson could be capable of truly horrific deeds.

…/|\\...

Grant Wilson stared through the massive hole he had just punched in the wall. Plaster dust coated his bare hands, which were cut and red from the impact, and debris covered the roughly thin carpeted floor. The blasted envelope still in Rose's clenched hand where he had thrust it after processing the contents of the letter. That complete utter bastard.

He was still alive after all this time and _now_ he decides to tell them. Just after he had managed to get everything set up for Rose and Joe. A stable income. A fairly safe place to live. And now his father comes along messes everything up, again. Of course he couldn't help them when they needed it – when Adeline abandoned them, when they had no money and little prospects, when he had no job or proper qualifications from looking after his siblings because his dead-beat mother couldn't.

Looking at Rose and thinking of Joe, he knew they wanted to see him. They always hoped he would still be alive, always hoped that he would one day come back. Like a miracle story from a fictional fairytale. And now somehow he had, albeit, in the form of a rather pathetic letter.

If it wasn't for the symbol of two crossed swords on the end of the letter – An obvious allusion to the swords that his father always treasured – he would have laughed and threw it away. His father was dead, if not in body but in spirit. Slade Wilson had never been the ideal father, always in another country halfway around the world for his 'work'. Not that Grant had any idea what his father did until his timely 'death' and even then it wasn't quite clear exactly what he did as an agent of ASIS.

When Grant was very young, Slade had always tried to make time. Even when Rose and Joe came along, he would constantly devote as much time as he could to be with them. Even if that time was just ten minutes to take them to school or occasionally on the quieter weekends he would teach them to maintain their swords, and on the very odd instance, spar with them.

But as time went on he had even less time for them and spent sometimes months away for work. But just leaving them completely and letting them all think he was dead was something that he thought not even his hardhearted father would do. Grant's whole body shook with anger, abandonment and revelation.

"Are we still going to go?" Rose asked finally, after some minutes of watching him take out his pent up aggression on the wall.

"Should we? We already know what happened. We don't need a bunch of lawyers to tell us that he never cared about us." Grant's voice was harsh but accepting.

"Maybe there's something we don't know? We can't just let this chance go. Do you know how many people Thea had to bribe or threaten to get us this chance to find out what really happened?" Rose shot back hostilely.

"Wait. Rose, I thought we were allowed to know. I looked up the law. Why the hell would Thea need to bribe people?" Grant suddenly felt that maybe they were about to something illegal which wouldn't really help with his application for the new tour in Iraq in a few months.

"Dad wasn't just an Army officer and a special forces operative." Rose said triumphantly as if that explained everything that ever went wrong in the universe.

"I know that. He was with ASIS, but that doesn't change anything." Grant crossed his arms unimpressed with Rose's argument.

"Yes it does if he wasn't a usual operative." Rose insisted.

"What do you mean by that?" Grant angrily questioned.

"Let's go and find out shall we?" Her voice was sickly sweet like the honey that was set out to catch flies.

Grant opened his mouth to reply hotly that they didn't need to know any more about their uncaring bastard of a father, he wasn't worth going to this stupid government filing building, and that all that they would find was pain and distress – for that, in his experience, was the only thing that the past held when it came to their father. He remembered the day before Slade left for the last time, and the angry argument that their parents had. Their father was not as good as he was painted to be, Grant knew.

When his little brother, Joe, stumbled sleepily into the small untastefully peach coloured kitchen. Still in his dark blue pajamas, his black hair ruffled and his eyes dreary from sleep. Obviously their rapidly increasing-in-volume argument about what they were planning to do had woken him up.

Joe pulled out one of his many notebooks that he kept with him at all times, even early in the morning after being woken up by inconsiderate siblings. _What's going on?_ He wrote with a yawn, stretching out his arms tiredly.

Rose shot Grant a cautious look - _don't tell him yet, it will only give him false hopes_ – "Grant is being unreasonable about the car, again." She said in an irritable tone. Rose had clearly inherited her father's expansive lying skills.

He climbed up onto one of the kitchen stools, ignoring the new hole in the wall and getting out some cereal. The black pen skated across the page once more. _When do we have to get to the building again?_

"After lunch. Don't worry everything will be fine." Rose half glanced at her older brother daring him to take action. Grant huffed tetchily but said nothing for despite his protestations he did want to find out more about his father's work as that was the reason he joined the army in the first place.

Rose smugly smirked at her older brother as she walked out but she wasn't stupid enough to think that she won this particular argument because in all honesty it was Joe that decided for them.

Joe, not nearly as ignorant as his older siblings assumed, knew that they had some information on their dad that they didn't want to tell him. That they weren't ever going to tell him, not until they had to.

If he wasn't so used to the people around him keeping secrets and telling lies he would have tried to interrogate them on what they knew. Joe smirked, looking extraordinarily like his father, and decided that that envelope was going to find its way into his hands one way or another.

No secret stayed that way forever, especially ones between family members.

…/|\\...

**Hello my dear readers, sorry for not being able to reply to all your lovely reviews but for some reason for the past week my attempts to reply have gone awry. So sorry, I think it's fixed now so I'll try and reply this time. Anyway hope you liked this chapter, thank you for bothering to read this, and as always your reviews are much appreciated.**

***Darkmoon111***


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Thea was far too happy to notice the quickly building tensions between the two older Wilson siblings as they were shown into the plain waiting room. Sitting in on a hard white plastic chair, her fidgeting hand fiddling with the hozen around her neck, Thea was busting to tell Rose about the letter she received last night.

But she wasn't stupid, she would only tell the Wilson's when she thought it was safe and made sure no one else could listen in. However unbeknownst to Thea, Rose was also itching to tell her about her own little message, and could actually tell that the security cameras were fake.

"Thea, I have some amazing news." Rose was practically bubbling with happiness which was odd because out of the two Thea was the outgoing emotional one while Rose was the more introverted unaffected one.

"You're not the only one, but now is probably not the best time." Thea murmured back, paranoia filling her mind. Were the cameras real? Were they being bugged? Was it even safe to say that she had good news?

"Last night I got his letter-" Rose's excited whisper was cut off by Grant's cautious hiss, "Not now, Rose."

"What? It says I can tell her?" Rose quietly snapped back.

"The wall is too thin. Someone could listen in and just because those cameras aren't filming us doesn't mean the audio isn't being recorded." Grant softly alleged back, equally riled but doing a far better job of keeping calm.

Thea took in a sharp breath – _a letter and extreme paranoia_ – maybe she wasn't the only one with mind-blowing news about their family. Or more specifically about a _dead_ family member. The two siblings continued to argue inaudibly while Joe shuffled over to Thea.

_Their fighting… yet again._ Joe was always the more 'peaceful' and by that it meant that he wasn't going to kill anyone who looked at him funny. He was still Slade Wilson's son and it could be guaranteed that he wasn't 'peaceful' in any easy sense of the word.

"Siblings always have their fights especially as they get older. At the time you think you hate them, but when they go – you'd do anything to get them back."

_I'm sorry for reminding you about your family_. If he could still talk his voice would have been regretful, he couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose your Dad and only sibling at the same time, losing Dad was hard enough and he didn't even really know him that well.

"It is okay, Dad never really paid any attention to me anyway. Always about the business, always at meetings, never anytime for his children."

_Like my Dad. He was always away with 'work'. Not that we really know what he actually did._ Joe wrote empathetically.

"Which is why we are here." Thea would have placed a comforting arm around Joe but, unlike his siblings, Thea only knew full well that Joe was not easily scared. After she met Rose she spent a lot of time with Joe and saw him as a little brother, Rose like the twin sister she always wanted and Grant like the annoying semi-parent guardian or older responsible cousin.

Hard steps of high heels upon the cold stone floor of the darkened corridor outside, cut off the older Wilson sibling's argument and, Thea and Joe's amiable if sad conversation. The security guard outside opened the glass doors, clearly bored out of his mind. A plain women walked in dressed in a simple black business suit.

Her face was easily forgettable and was clearly was no one important, perhaps some minor secretary. A clipboard rested in her left hand and a pen in the other. Her expression was just as bored as the security guard, but as she glanced at the clipboard it changed to one of alert caution.

"Are you the Wilson children?" Even her voice was undistinguished – a nasally tone that was pitched too high.

Rose stood up, "We are." She said it firmly and proudly, her head held high.

"I thought there was only three of you." The women was clearly not as stupid as she looked.

"Thea is a friend, she will come with us." Grant's voice was oddly threatening, daring the women to argue. The room was suddenly smaller, the shadows darker and somehow the four youths looked strangely intimidating. The women gulped and nodded, unable to say anything.

"Come this way." The barely concealed apprehension in her voice fuelled the identical smirks on the three sibling's faces, sometimes they really did act just like their father.

As they walked through the cold windowless halls of the old building, the women's hands shook as she led them deeper into the complex, and down into the unregistered sub levels. The fake white light made no attempt to hide the deep shadows and the overall degrading interior of the structure.

Peeling carpet, dirty white walls, splintering wood doorframes and the scarcely masked evidence of a serious rat infestation. The stairs were rickety and precautious. The secretary's heels almost slipping several times on the decent. Down several sub-levels and finally in front of a strangely out of place chrome elevator.

As they entered the small metallic box, an alert security guard slid open a hidden panel to reveal a finger scanner and three marked glass cases of other lower levels. He placed his finger over the scanner and after mechanical buzzing, glowing lasers and blue flickering lights, it checked out.

He then unlocked the last case and pressed the button. The lift doors closed, but no elevator music played – only nail biting silence. As the doors opened once more, the quartet were meet by two more vigilant security guards, each equipped with Tasers and guns. They stepped out of the elevator and walked through the sterile hallways passed ominously closed thick metal doors to a small white room with several metal bolted down chairs and camera's filming them on at least three different angles.

"This is as far as I go." The women's nervous trill did nothing to calm the nerves of the waiting youths.

The four sat down gingerly on the cold steel chairs. Rose and Thea took the opportunity to warily study the Spartan room while Grant and Joe stared almost disturbingly at the two guards whom shifted uneasily under the almost unnaturally intense gaze they were under.

Minutes passed and their gaze never wavered, and the guards began to feel extremely uncomfortable especially when Rose and Thea finished studying the room and added their own stares upon them, despite the fact that the security guards were well armed and they onlookers were teenagers.

A subtle hiss of air pressure changing forced the four heads to whip around in unison towards the opposite wall. The said wall moved back, sliding through an almost invisible gap, to revel the other half of the room. This half was very much the same; white walls and floors, and unnaturally sterilized air. The only difference was the metal desk and currently occupied chair. The aforementioned occupant twirled her chair around, very much reminiscent of a James Bond villain and reveled herself.

"I would have kept you waiting longer but I'm afraid that the guards might have eventually had a heart attack from your unnecessarily incessant glowering. How alike you are." A bitter twist on her words warned them that Amanda Waller was not necessarily commenting on how similar they were from each other but how alike they were with _someone else_.

…/|\\...

"Grant Wilson, Joe Wilson and Rose Wilson. You are here about your father." Joe mutely nodded, Rose blinked and Grant's fingers twitched.

"Thea Queen. You must be a good friend to be here." Thea did not move to the bait. Or really move at all. Something about this women sent off neon warnings and flashing red lights in her mind – Oliver said that he had enemies. Was this women one of them? Did she know? Could she be trusted? Unanswerable questions filled her mind but she said nothing.

"You wish to know about Slade Wilson. You all must understand that nothing, and I mean nothing, of this can be said outside this room." All four of them nodded seriously.

"Your father was an ASIS agent, a good one too, but after a particular incident of which the details of have been suppressed, he was chosen to take part in a new initiative. A cover mission so deep that his file in ASIS was destroyed and almost no record of him existed – only you, his family, had regular contact with him. He and his partner, William Wintergreen, were to pose as a mercenary group." Joe blinked in surprise at the mention of his dead Godfather.

"They were incredibly successful, and soon many known criminals that had gotten away with atrocious acts were literally throwing evidence around the place for ASIS to pin them. But soon powerful men wanted them to either work exclusively for them or simply dead because of the threat they posed. Time went by and soon rumors circulated about them and they were even given a name 'Deathstroke'–"

Grant's eyes widened, when he was studying for his work in the hope of joining ASIS or an organization of similar nature himself, he had come across that name several times. Grant was beginning to realize that maybe his father had no choice but to leave.

"–on the account that any man whom was targeted by them ended up dead."

Waller sustained her carefully wrought speech, "No government organization except ASIS and ARGUS knew that they were not real mercenaries. Eventually even the mention of them sent fear into any man with enemies that had the money to 'hire' them. Governments and criminal empires sent groups to try and eradicate Deathstroke."

The only sound in the room was the heavy breathing of the security guards and the shuffling of papers as Amanda Waller prepared for the truth or at least in part at any rate.

"Two thousand and seven days ago. Slade Wilson and William Wintergreen arrived in Shanghai, China; illegally, through a container ship from Japan. They were then briefed for their mission. It was to join up with another ASIS agent and recover the ex-Chinese Military general from the island of Lian Yu. They boarded the _Wedgetail _but somehow they crashed into the island, missing the runway and landing deep in the jungle. Complete contact was lost after that." The head of ARGUS stopped and the silence grew long.

"That's it?" Rose couldn't help but ask.

"That's the only material ASIS could recover." Waller stonewalled

"But you're not ASIS. You know something else." Thea stated, and Waller cursed that Oliver Queen's younger sister could be just as sharp as he was. Waller could hardly state that they knew nothing in front of her men and ruin her reputation for knowing more than any other ARGUS leader, she was backed against a wall and with no other option available, she continued.

"On the Island Wilson and Wintergreen were betrayed by the other agent and were captured by mercenaries already inhabiting the island. We don't know exactly what happened but they were somehow split up. The rest of the details are very vague but it appeared that the ex- general and his daughter whom had also come to the island to save her father, another unidentified man, Wintergreen and your father managed, against all odds, to stop the mercenaries."

Thea stiffened; The Queen's Gambit went down near Shanghai, both Rose and her receiving letters from missing relatives, Oliver sent her an arrowhead, and Slade gave his children sets of Katanas. Suddenly an impossible idea formed in her head and Thea wasn't sure if she hoped it was true or not.

Waller continued, "But they were still stuck on the island. A few months later, a freighter passed Lian Yu. All we know is that somehow Wintergreen was killed and the freighter destroyed. Your father and three others were found by ARGUS when investigating the explosions."

_He's still alive?_ Joe couldn't help but write down puncturing Waller's carefully prepared speech.

"He was taken in by ARGUS, he became one of my agents for some time."

"Why didn't he come home then?" Grant was still not yet ready to believe that his father had a good reason for abandoning them.

"When he was betrayed, information about him being an ally of Deathstroke circulated in high circles. If he were to return home, he would be hunted and, you would become targets. He would not let that happen, so he let everyone believe he was dead. I believe, however, that he is tying up a few loose ends before he returns home. He has not been idle, when your mother left you, he managed to get you sent to Starling City. He also fixed you a place in the army, paid half of the money on your apartment so you wouldn't have to live in the Glades and pays the school fees for Rose and Joe."

Rose, slightly affronted learning that she didn't actually win a scholarship but her dad was paying instead, attempted to nonchalantly ask a question, "Does that mean he's coming home soon?"

"I suspect Miss Queen already knows the answer to that." Her voice was sharp, "I have work to do."

Quickly turning towards the guards, "Show them out."

Before they could blink, Waller was gone and the guards were all but manhandling them back to the elevator. After one angry stare, the guards, remembering who their father was, backed off and let them enter the elevator without trouble. In silence they rode straight up, ignoring the secretary, they lead themselves through the building to the closest exit. Only when they were well free of the building did Rose answer the question that was burning on her mind.

"What the hell did she mean, Thea?"

Thea wordlessly handed her letter to Rose, walking quickly, leading them towards one of her brothers clubs where she knew they could talk freely. Rose scanned the letter, pleased for her best friend but still confused to see how this had to do with her father, aside from the fact that they both got letters on the same night by two mysterious men from a loved one whom was not dead.

As they entered _Bane_, Thea lead them down into the storage room that Tommy let her use as her own area to hang out and relax. The room had boxes stored neatly in one corner; soft beanbags and comfortable chairs scattered around a low table in the center, a mini fridge and a small desk to the side. Rose, by now, had passed the message onto both of her brothers whom also read it with some misperception.

"So… Oliver is alive. What's a Hozen?"

"This _arrowhead_ is." Pointing towards her pendant around her neck waiting for them to connect the dots.

"An unnamed man with dad, bow and arrows, swords – The Vigilantes." Grant ran his hands through his hair, shocked beyond belief. His Dad was the Onyx Dueller and worked with Oliver, Thea's supposedly dead playboy brother whom was the Emerald Archer. They were now Vigilantes that killed people, granted the lowest scum of Starling, but still it was confronting that they were volunteering to kill and that they had been in Starling City for months without any form of communication at all.

_Why now? Why let us know about them being alive now? Why not earlier or not at all?_ Joe looked strangely older as he explored the possibilities.

"Sara – she's already tried to give me a lecture on staying far away from you. Apparently she does not like your father and doubts that you are any better. Also Waller said that they only had a few more things to tie up before they could come home, maybe that means that only a few more people need to die before it's safe."

"Maybe… But Thea remember a few days ago when you were attacked. Possibly they are telling us so they can protect us better." Rose reminded.

"Could be." Thea admitted, "Either way, they are alive and have probably killed over fifty people between them since arriving in Starling, but want us to keep it a secret from the rest of the world."

_What do you know about Deathstroke, Grant? You must have heard about them before_. Joe asked.

'Yeah, I've heard of them. An insanely good mercenary group estimated with six members – which, as we now know, is completely wrong – they operated all over the world and at their height was on most countries wanted lists and well over a hundred kills in their name. They were some of the most feared and efficient killers for over a decade. Suddenly five years ago they just stopped and most people assumed they were finally dead or disbanded." Grant, although still unbelievably angry with his father, was more than ready to appreciate and admire the skills his father must have, as Deathstroke and a Vigilante.

"So… What are we going to do?" Rose wondered aloud.

"We keep our heads down. Clearly it's best if no one else makes the connection, particularly the SCPD or whoever else is after them. We would become massive targets if anyone finds out, they've killed or threatened so many people in the past few months that it would be dangerous if anyone made the connection, let alone someone they've pissed off." Grant's voice was firm and brokered no argument.

Thea opened the mini fridge and brought out some drinks; whisky for Rose, Grant and herself, and coke for Joe.

"To not-so-dead asshole family members whom are now murdering vigilantes." Thea said sounding slightly unhinged already despite not having yet consumed any alcohol yet. They clinked glasses together and hoped that all their questions would soon be answered.

…/|\\...


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Oliver watched through the camera's he had secreted into the club _Bane_, knowing that Thea liked to hang out there and would go there as a safe place to discuss the revelations that had been revealed to her and the Wilson children. A slight smile graced his face as they worked it all out almost immediately.

He was marginally annoyed that Sara had already tried to pull Thea away from the Wilson's knowing full well that Sara didn't trust Slade, and was greatly amused by Grant's history lesson on Deathstroke – six members indeed. He also frowned slightly at the very generous amount of alcohol consumption, the 'asshole family member' comment and the continuous allusion to the amount of people that they had killed as Vigilantes; but aside from that, he was quite pleased that they were not nearly as angry as he originally thought they would be.

"Have they worked it out yet?" Slade appeared from upstairs, jumping over the railings, ignoring the stairs in favor of just jumping down, and executing a perfect roll onto the training mats.

"Almost straight away and they aren't nearly as angry as we thought they'd be."

"Well that's one positive thing that came out of today." Slade grumbled.

"Let me guess? She defeated you again." Slade despite being possibly that most skilled close combatant that ever walked the earth, often seemed to lose to the young Chinese women, and Oliver always repeated in his head the lesson Slade had attempted to drill into him.

The greatest downfall for men was women and the distraction they posed. It amused Oliver to no end on how much Slade had lectured him about not falling in love or being infatuated with a women by their looks, only for himself to fall prey to Shado soon after.

Slade, clearly unwilling to admit he had lost to Shado yet again, grabbed the tablet from Oliver's hands and watched his children with an intensity that surprised even Oliver. He missed them more than he would ever admit, even more so since arriving in Starling City.

Oliver knew how he felt, to see their family so close and yet so far, to be able to watch them from afar, but never have any true contact with them. It was painful, an ever constant reminder of the precious time torn from them. A reminder of the little pieces of their soul that had been chipped away since the last time they had seen them.

Oliver glanced at his watch. 4:00pm. More than enough time for some serious training before Felicity, Shado and Yao Fei turned up, ready for the night of 'fighting' crime, if one could call smashing ineffective bodyguards to the floor and intimidating pathetic corrupted businessmen 'fighting'.

Oliver began his usual sequence of push-ups and muscle strengthening exercises. Hanging upside down, pulling himself up on the Salmon Ladder that Felicity insisted on putting in, hauling up his body on a thick rope, and practicing with the bamboo sticks in the 'cage' as it was nicknamed – a maze of iron poles at odd angles, the aim was to dance between them, hitting each one multiple times without losing momentum – it was a lot harder than it looked.

Slade eventually stopped watching his children and joined in. For the next two hours, they engaged in intense brawling, Slade ultimately winning most of them, particularly in the sparring sessions with bamboo poles. Slade would no doubt always be a better hand to hand combatant than Oliver ever would be, his experiences as Deathstroke and his natural ability would always insure that, but that didn't mean that Oliver was a bad fighter, quite the opposite, but Oliver's greatest skills had always lay in long ranged combat, torture, and manipulation.

His skill with a bow was only matched by Yao Fei and Shado, not even a league of assassin's member could come close to the skill the three of them displayed and continuously horned. Oliver's ability to manipulate, lie and play 'chess' – as Felicity called it – with people's lives, was unusually excellent. Slade of course was still their best battle tactician but Oliver was known to outmaneuver Slade on the occasion – something very few could do.

Oliver, under Amanda Waller, had discovered his unusual and frankly sickening talent of interrogation. It was scary how easy he could physically and mentally break a person beyond their conscious mind, forcing them to eventually spill their darkest secrets, if only for the promise of a quick painless end.

Although Oliver had always been good using people to do what he wanted, he didn't realize actually how good he could be until an incident in Hong Kong where he was forced to play 'chess' like any 'good' businessman or large scale criminal. Apparently Oliver had inherited more than good looks from his father, when it came to 'business' he was a natural.

Combined with his now instinctual ruthlessness and determination, there was little on the business side he couldn't do. And what he did do was not easy by any standards; he started and managed his own business in Hong Kong – calling it Verdant – by blackmailing various criminal organizations into giving him enough money to invest interest in many small yet powerful companies.

Now he was back in Starling the company grew on its own, Oliver paying other men to take care of it, and had evolved into an international company, with major branches in Russia and China, as well as several smaller branches all across the world, including a recently opened Starling City department.

Oliver planned for a massive drop in the company's fortunes in the future, so when he was Oliver Queen the billionaire playboy again, he would slowly buy up his own company and, with a little manipulation of the market, Verdant's worth will skyrocket and he will suddenly be in possession of a very powerful company.

It would also offer a perfectly reasonable excuse for all his time spent away from his family and provide almost unlimited financial access for their night activities. With Slade playing his bodyguard, Shado would take the place of his therapist for his years 'alone' on Lian Yu and Yao Fei would be his Tai Chi and Meditation instructor to help 'calm' his mind.

Oliver fully intended to play the PTSD card, which should counteract his intense change in behavior, this would hopefully slid off any awkward questions about the Island. Doing this would also allow for regular daily contact between all four of them without suspicion, as well as provide them all with untainted alibis if any of their operations went wrong or if the police somehow became suspicious of them, and any of their wounds and absences could be explained away easily without mistrust.

"Are you done smashing each other to bits or do you need a jackhammer to complete the job?" Felicity felt particularly sarcastic for a moment, "Not that we actually have a jackhammer now that I think of it, or any other construction or demolition equipment. Not that we'd need it I suppose, you too both destroy anything that comes within arm reach. I mean, really! How the hell did you two manage to practically break one of the pure metal supporting shafts? I'm just glad that it was not that important otherwise-" Felicity drew in a breath and realized how long she had been ranting, "I'm doing it again aren't I?"

Oliver laughed lightheartedly and with one final successful strike at Slade, he jumped nimbly off the training mat, replacing the bamboo poles, and taking his favorite place by the computer table, still shirtless and sweaty. Slade placed his own set of bamboo with the others and pulled a thin cotton black shirt over his body.

Oliver was thumbing his way through the List, the symbol had been a mystery until Roy was kidnapped and was going to executed in the old subway tunnels by the so-called 'Savior', Felicity remembered pulling up the map and Yao Fei leaning over recognizing the connection immediately, and then expecting everyone else to see it as fast as he had and no one understanding, except Oliver whom was smirking his arrogant self-satisfied smile in the corner, for at least ten minutes until Shado finally worked it out and explained it out loud to everyone else.

Oliver was like that sometimes, he knew about things that were yet to happen or knew about them just before they did. Those moments were slowly decreasing but still predominate enough that everyone secretly thought that Oliver was holding back some special source of information about basically everything.

He was always the least surprised despite the fact that many of the recent revelations had a connection to him before the Island, except when they were bugging Malcolm Merlyn's car at the very beginning of their campaign. The bug picked up a highly confidential conversation between Moria and Malcolm about the Queen's Gambit after an old associate of Robert, Walter Steele, stumbled upon the destroyed boat.

Luckily they were able to get Mr. Steele well out of the city and underground before he could be killed but Oliver was angry for days afterwards. Particularly over the fact that his Mother not only fully supported the Undertaking, but did not care for her former dead husband, still hating him for the Isabel Roshev incident and the numerous other affairs he had.

_Another convenient change. For every ally he had saved in this timeline he lost someone at home from before. Tommy for Slade, Walter for Yao Fei and now Moira for Shado._

Oliver himself was not mentioned it but the thought alone that his mother would chose Malcolm Merlyn over her own son made him feel more isolated than ever before. It was then on Oliver decided that no one from his younger years as playboy Oliver Queen was to be trusted with anything, aside from Thea, because if she hated him there would be nothing left of Ollie Womanizer Queen, nothing left of the young Oliver Queen whom Speedy so happily chased after. Only the Emerald Archer, the Green Arrow, Oliver the survivor.

"Not to be rude or anything and interrupt your philosophical thoughts about life or whatever you were thinking about. That's not to say that you don't have philosophical thoughts about life or anything else really just it's like more of a Yao Fei or Shado thing. You know with their inner Zen aura thing… Please just stop me?" Felicity sighed.

Oliver smirked once more at Felicity's incessant babbling. The back door then opened to reveal Shado, Diggle and Lyla. He slid off the table, quickly grabbing a simple grey shirt to cover his well scarred upper body, unexpectedly surprised by their sudden unison entrance.

Slade, typically, pulled Shado close to him, giving her a simple kiss on her cheek. He looked oddly tame when Shado was close to him, another constant source of amusement for Oliver whom was well used to Slade's tough guy persona, which only ever seemed to fade around Shado and his children. Then Slade turned towards Lyla and Diggle.

"Any news from A.R.G.U.S.?" That was usually why Lyla visited the foundry, unless Diggle was here late and she was here to see him.

"Not exactly. Deadshot is back in Starling."

Diggle swung around to face his wife, "What?! He was still deep in Russia a few days ago."

"It seems that someone wants an assassin mercenary and seeing as he is the best sniper on the market at the moment, it not a surprise that he isn't staying underground for very long. The most worrying thing is that he must have been offered astronomical amounts of money for him to come back here again after the beating Slade and Oliver dealt out. There are few directly in Starling that would have that quantity of cash on hand."

"Only three from my databases." Felicity, always efficient, had already looked it up in her massive databases cross compiled with the List, A.R.G.U.S. files, SCPD records, the legal Archives, Interpol, the Media and several other useful sources. "Malcolm Merlyn, Frank Bertinelli and Isabel Roshev."

"Wonderful. A mob boss, a psychotic bitch and an assassin." Diggle was less than impressed by the list of possible dealers.

"I doubt that Malcolm would bother with a sniper with his own skills." Oliver said.

"Maybe he doesn't want to kill him as the Dark Archer fearing that someone might make the connection." Lyla suggested.

"Then he'd hire a local hit man, someone that if they failed would not be as suspicious as Deadshot, very few can afford Deadshot and even less now because of his recent failures in Starling." Oliver's reply was fast and almost without thought.

"So, Malcolm Merlyn is most likely out. We'll have look into him anyway. But just from a quick scan of the three of them they all have masses of enemies and people whom they'd want to kill." Felicity called out.

"Alright, we'll need to find another way to get more specific information. Shado and I will look into Miss Roshev, she is less likely to recognize either of us. Yao Fei can look into Malcolm Merlyn. And Oliver – you get Bertinelli."

Immediately suspicious from the cat like grin on his partner's face, Oliver narrowed his eyes and asked, "Why do I get Bertinelli?"

"He has a rather lovely daughter whom has an odd fetish for leather and crossbows."

"You… You knew the whole time." Oliver sputtered, unable to believe it. Oliver had carefully hid his prior knowledge of the Huntresses identity, the fact that Slade had worked it out and didn't say anything at all surprised him.

"Yes, yes I did." Slade didn't even try and act like it wasn't true.

"You knew that the Huntress was Helena Bertinelli. As in the crazy Vigilante that turns up and flirts with me every time we do a mob hit." Oliver decided that he should play it safe and act like he knew nothing about her identity and he wouldn't if it wasn't for his past memories.

"Isn't that a conflict of interest? Her father's a mob boss. Why would she want to destroy his criminal empire?" Shado frowned.

"Oliver can find that out for sure." Slade was not gonna let Oliver wriggle out of this one. It was far too amusing to watch him squirm, and Slade was not going to let this precious chance go.

"I will get you back for this, Slade." Oliver vowed as he grabbed his bow, ear piece and leather. He stormed out not waiting for the others to catch up.

…/|\\...

Oliver looked down from the roof tops at the black van being guarded by several balaclava-wearing armed guards. Approximately ten more men, also fortified and masked, cautiously approached the vehicle surrounding their leader in a circular fashion, apparently the recent failings occurring due to the Hoods and the Huntress was causing both the mob and those that still dared to do deals with them to take harsh measures and increased security in the pathetically obvious hopes that enough men meant no attacks.

It was the solution of a simpleton, both the Vigilantes and the Huntress had gone through far more men before on their own, but together the thugs would stand no chance. It was almost an insult to see just how pitiful their new safety procedures were.

Oliver scanned the other rooftops, Slade was opposite him on a fire escape, his duel swords gleaming, ready to jump down the second he started to fire arrows, and the Huntress was hiding in the shadows on the dark railings above the second lot of thugs, her purple crossbow aimed at the unfortunate men.

Oliver waited patiently for the men to begin the deal, the main arms dealer stepped forward, convinced that the area was clear, from the brief and contemptible search carried out by the mob men. Oliver slowly, careful not make any audible noise, drew one of his signature arrows from his quiver, and nocked the green shaft into the taunt bowstring. Breathing gently he watched the arms dealer leader open his mouth to speak. The two men aside the dealer fell to the ground, each killed by a green arrow within a second of each other.

The Huntress took this as the cue to begin firing her own deadly, if not nearly as accurate or fast, ugly purple crossbow bolts down upon the disorientated men. The Onyx Dueller jumped down into the scene, lopping off limbs with scary ease further panicking the already fearful arms dealer.

The Emerald Archer ran across the rooftop and hurdled off, grabbing a pole to slow the fall, and landing on top of one of the few unfortunate thugs that was still alive from the bloody melee. The last few men were dealt with simultaneously by the Onyx Dueller and the Huntress. The Emerald Archer stalked towards the unfortunate German dealer, flanked by the other vigilante's.

It was the Onyx Dueller whom started the menacing intimidation. "Selling multitudes of guns to the mob that were eventually be used for nefarious purposes that led to many innocent deaths upon this city's streets."

"You have used your own influential friends to avoid arrest. You have manipulated and threatened innocent people for your own greed and pleasure. You never care for the deaths that lead from your own actions. Death for you is a mercy." The Huntress continued.

The emerald archer drew back his bow hostilely and reiterated his signature line, "Leo Muller, you have failed this city."

He let a green arrow fly through the air and dispatch the German. Helena stowed her crossbow on her belt, Slade sheathed his bloody swords onto his back and Oliver hooked his bow over his left shoulder.

"I'll leave you to talk." Slade cheekily stated before climbing back up the walls back to the rooftops. The two vigilantes stared at each other heedless of the bodies surrounding them.

"You have excellent aim." The Huntress purred from under her purple mask.

Usually Oliver would have rebuked her somehow, but with the new found urgency for knowledge on Frank Bertinelli, he easily slipped into his former womanizing ways, "It comes with practice, lots of practice." The suggestive undertone as easily apparent as he stepped closer to her.

The Huntress smirked believing that the Green Vigilante had finally fallen for her charms, "They do say practice makes perfect." She too stepped closer to him so they were only a few feet apart, "And I would be only too happy to help with your practice."

They leaned in closer, now only a few inches apart, their eyes met from under a hood and mask. Oliver decided to make the first move and bent down and pressed his slightly chapped lips against her full purple-lipstick ones. Helena, unsurprisingly deepened the kiss, placing her hands on the back of his hood.

Oliver copied her, and soon slipped his tongue into her mouth, his body far more sensitive than usual for it had been months since his last proper contact with a women, having not touched another women since he had arrived in Starling City. Police sirens whined in the distance and the two vigilante's broke apart; one resigned, one reluctant.

Oliver took her hand and led them up onto the rooftops, together, they free ran towards a vantage point to watch the police scramble around like ants on a stamped nest. Yellow tape and markers soon were strewn out into the streets surrounding the site.

Satisfied that their point had been made after they finally broke into the van and discovered the hidden cache of weapons, the Vigilantes parkoured through the rooftops, splitting up and returning on equally expensive motorcycles. Helmets on, they raced through the streets, eventually Helena led them to a small but expensive motel.

Oliver followed the Huntress up the decorated wall façade, through a small window and into a luxurious bedroom. Their lips met once again in a frenzy, not bothering with the lights, the couple soon made their way to the silken double bed. Leather was soon strewn upon the thickly carpeted floor.

Sometime later, Oliver slipped out of the soft bed and began redressing in his green vigilante leather. Checking that Helena was still sleeping, he placed some almost invisible bugs on her phone, purple costume and some of her clothes that he found in the wardrobe. He placed a soft kiss on her head and exited through the window once more.

He slowly lowed himself down the wall and replaced his dark helmet, looking up at the window once more, seeing Helena staring desirously out at him. He ignored her longing look, having got what he wanted from her, and revved up his bike and lost himself in the city's bright lights and dark alleys.

…/|\\...


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

And so it went on, day after day, the relentless search for Deadshot, his client, and his target. The more time that passed, the more urgent the search became. Slade took a fill-in job for an unfortunately – or fortunately depending on one's perspective – ill security guard at Roshev's current company, Stellmoor International and placed bugs in the security room.

Yao Fei posed as a Chinese Investor interested in Merlyn Consolidated and discreetly bugged Malcolm's offices at both his home and in the Merlyn Consolidated building. Shado spent many hours listening into all sorts of conversations on the numerous listening devices.

Felicity used the bugs to hack into the various computer mainframes to find any evidence of a potential hire of an assassin in the finances or a possible enemy that they may need eradicated.

But after five days of frantic searching, it was concluded that none of their possible clients were logical. Malcolm Merlyn was an assassin himself with a network of acolytes, and his own, if low level, assassin of a son. Isabel Roshev had nothing short of an army of mercenaries working for her every need, all of which would be more than pleased to kill anyone, no questions asked.

Frank Bertinelli had close connections with the Triad, so if he needed an assassin he would just pay China White. The only option they had now was to hope that Felicity would find some technological footprint between Deadshot and his employer, although Deadshot was strictly professional, his client was not necessarily so inconspicuous.

It was on the fifth day that Felicity finally gathered them all together, her skills with technology proving once again invaluable. By cross-referencing Deadshot's face with all the security cameras in Starling City, there was a partial match. It appeared that Deadshot was smart enough to stick to areas of the city with little photographic or filming occurring and have a hood on whenever he was under scrutiny.

And as suspected it was not Deadshot that made the mistake, rather his client. It was obviously an arranged meeting, the parking lot cameras were all blacked out but the restaurant across the street had a surprisingly good view of the lot despite the darkness and distance.

In the back corner of the screen a flicker of movement is seen. A black limousine sleekly slid into the center of the empty lot where a lone man, decked in a leather jacket and grey cotton hoodie waited patiently.

After some avid conversation that was not able to be picked up by the cheap camera, the hooded man reveled himself to be Floyd Lawton, known better by his Interpol coined name, Deadshot.

A neatly suited man from inside the luxury vehicle stepped outside and, unfortunately for the avid watchers, faced away from the camera and continued the exchange before handing a thick folder of documents to the sniper.

The suited man quickly reentered the extravagant car, Lawton covered his face once more with his dark hood and the two men exited without another word or glance, one slowly walking, one swiftly driving.

"Can you follow a camera trail?" Yao Fei never really understood technological jargon, and thus often resorted to interesting phrases to state his meaning.

"I tried but it's a dead end, he avoided all cameras near the area going to and from the meeting. That's the only footage I managed to find." Felicity said unhappily, unimpressed that Deadshot had gotten a step in front of her.

"Wait, it might be enough. Zoom into the suited man's face when he gets back into the car." Shado asked.

Felicity complied, and the assembly watched as half of the man's face was shown in very bad quality for a split second.

"I can't get a better quality. The cameras pretty cheap, and it's meant for just outside the restaurant, not across the street." Felicity sighed.

Oliver leant over and play the face over again, frowning he zoomed out, running a list of the men whom might want to hire Deadshot, a memory from the past came to mind and suddenly everything made sense.

"Of course, Frank Chen. He's a businessman whom worked on the Undertaking with my father and was one of the few whom knew about the bomb aboard The Gambit, his daughter Amanda was raped in the Glades. But he left the country and cut off all his ties in Starling City. However he still sends money for the Undertaking. I think he wants nothing to do with the Undertaking anymore. And there's only one surefire way of doing that." Oliver realized.

"Kill Malcolm Merlyn." Diggle stated.

"But that'd bring the league onto our doorsteps. That's the reason we agreed in the first place to not kill him, we do not need the league in Starling, especially with Sara Lance already running around." Shado said.

"If we don't stop it…" Felicity half asked concerned.

"We get a very angry league in Starling City. The very last thing we want." Slade swiftly said.

"Guess we're stopping it then." Oliver sighed, "Felicity pull up the cameras' of the Jade Dragon."

"Isn't that Triad territory?" Diggle asked.

"That's the point, Chen has links with the Triad, and that's the only ties he has left with Starling aside from the Undertaking. If Chen was to have an assassin in Starling, the men at the Jade Dragon would almost certainly know something." Oliver explained.

"But's that's why we ruled out Bertinelli, having connections to the Triad. Why wouldn't Chen use China White as the assassin?" Felicity asked as her hands skidded across the keyboard, hacking into the cameras with relative ease.

"Because Chen is known to have links with the Triad, if China White failed, Malcolm would have a very short list of suspects that would have that sort of power within the Triad while if Deadshot fails the blame is less likely to be pinned onto him." Slade, quickly catching on, clarified.

"Here" Felicity said, and they all watched as a set of twelve cameras' moved in fast motion from six days ago from all angles and most of the rooms in the Jade Dragon.

"There. In the left corner." Yao Fei said.

The screen stopped. A man stood by the grimy back window of the restaurant. One of the thugs that was seen regularly in the back alleyway walked out and despite the bad sound quality snatches of a quiet conversation was caught.

"Are you the sniper?"

"…me. Mr. Chen wants…"

"…work for him. What do you want?"

"Do you know…? It vital… time…"

"…Triad does not take demands."

"You will for me." A gun leapt into the man's hands, "Where can I get it?"

"I don't know. I don't know." For a Triad member, the man was surprisingly easily intimidated.

"Where?"

"China White… at least a week… that's all I know."

Deadshot twirled the gun, and used the handle to knock out the pathetic man.

Shado reached over and stopped the screen, "It appears that Deadshot is indeed working with Frank Chen and we have less than two days to work out who his target is."

"Wonderful. What now?" Felicity asked.

"The Jade Dragon."

…/|\\...

It was eventually decided that it would be Slade and Oliver whom would go to the Jade Dragon. Diggle had his job with the Merlyns, Lyla had some A.R.G.U.S. mission to oversee, Shado and Yao Fei would be immediately suspected if they went near the restaurant and began threatening the Triad men in Mandarin, and of course Felicity was out of the question.

Oliver wanted to go alone but Shado insisted that Slade go with him, asserting that it would be safer if they went together. Oliver knew that Shado just wanted Slade to keep an eye on him so he wouldn't do anything that she classed as 'stupid' and he couldn't blame her, most of the time if he wanted to be alone, he was about to something that none of them approve of.

To be fair, Oliver knew that he was not exactly the most reliable teammate, often going off and doing his own thing if he felt it was necessary. But Oliver would never abandon his friends in a time of need.

The Jade Dragon restaurant was located on 1257 Merle Street, it was a known front for the local Chinese Mafia and according to A.R.G.U.S files was a minor station for money laundering. Nightfall was close and the restaurant had a steady flow of lower middle class traffic.

Slade and Oliver walked in through the main door, the little brass bell ringing to signify the arrival of new customers and chose a table close to the kitchen door but far enough away to not arouse immediate suspicion.

The table was a simple wooden affair covered in a plain white cloth that had frankly seen better days and the chairs were unsubtlety worn. It was clear that the Triad was not bothering to spend any more money than necessary on the restaurant front.

Slade and Oliver turned up to the reservation precisely on time, after spending the past hour analyzing the building from every angle using the plan's that Felicity had drawn up, and their own physical study of the building from outside, using windows to determine the layout of furniture and security cameras to monitor the amount of hostiles in the backroom.

They had also spent some time discussing possible plans of attack and what to do if all hell broke loose. As the old saying goes: It never hurts to be prepared; and in this case with Slade's inherent mistrust of everything, and Oliver's recent paranoia about being Starling City, they had the plan down to the very letter.

As they sat down, Slade subtly scanned the room for unknown danger while Oliver ordered the 'Chef's Best' from the bored waiter whom shrugged and after marking the order sluggishly on his frayed notebook with a small stub of pencil.

The waiter wondered off in no hurry at all to serve a group of older teenagers whom had decided for no particular reason that they were obliged to harass this specific restaurant tonight. For the next half an hour the duo watched amused as the teens did every annoying compliant provoking behaviors, short of actually doing something that may be considered illegal or would warrant them to be thrown out.

A massive fish was served with unordered complimentary alcoholic beverages which both men chose to ignore, neither willing to degrade their abilities, no matter how good, with liquor before an anticipated interrogation.

A musical tinkle of the brass doorbell alerted them to a thickset Chinese man with a mass of tattoos on each arm, whom immediately bypassed the front room and kitchens with expected ease, the waiter deliberately looking almost fearfully away from the Asian man. Slade and Oliver glanced discreetly at each other, the man was a few minutes earlier than anticipated but it did not matter, it was time for the plan to begin.

The next move of the vigilantes was so well choreographed that even the best actors directed by the greatest directors would be unable to recreate the smooth actions that occurred.

As the slow waiter passed their table Slade awkwardly but discreetly stuck out his combat boot covered foot tripping the unfortunate man whom was carefully carrying a platter of champagne in cheap glass flutes.

A crashing wave of alcohol and glass smashed over the teenagers much to the horror of the waiter, the disgust of the teens and satisfaction to the other customers all of whom was considering making an official complaint against them due to their immature conduct.

In the utter chaos and destruction that had now engulfed the front room of the Jade Dragon restaurant, Slade and Oliver slipped out into the kitchen, all eyes on the dripping boys and the embarrassed waiter. The kitchen was, if anything, more of a hurricane of confusion and dangerous movement than in the other room.

The two men quietly and unobtrusively entered the dark messy overcrowded backroom unnoticed. Inside a thin Asian man lounged in an old office chair while the stocky man stood over him arms crossed speaking in quick Mandarin. Oliver clicked off the dirty switch that controlled the lights as a distraction. The standing man drew his gun and glanced around ineffectually, missing the two partners in the sudden darkness.

Using this to his advantage, Slade smashed the standing man's head onto the crowded wooden table efficiently knocking the man out while Oliver, seizing initiative, sprayed the other man's face with hot sauce that was conveniently on the table, blinding and burning him at the same time. Oliver pulled the man out of the chair by his shirt and slammed him up against the grubby plaster wall, Slade pinned him there while Oliver began to bombard the man with fluent, correctly-accented Mandarin.

"The Triad has put a hit on someone. I want to know who.'

The man was a pathetic blubbering mess, "I don't know, I don't know what you're talking about."

Oliver threatened him again, still in perfect Mandarin, "The sniper hired by Frank Chen via the Triad, who is he being paid to kill?"

"I don't have anything to do with the Triad."

"You're not making Dim Sim back here."

"I… I don't know who it is."

"But you do know something. Tell me."

"Tomorrow, at City hall. Whatever's it is, it's supposed to happen tomorrow."

With that Slade punched him in the face, depriving the man of any consciousness. They then left the backroom, slipping through the kitchens and reseating themselves at their table, and started their meal, watching with bored interest as the waiter was publicly fired and another poor kitchen worker forced to clean up the massive mess.

As they paid for their rather second rate meal, the thickset man stormed out angrily, scanning the faces of the customers, dismissing Slade and Oliver. He began muttering to the fill in waiter asking of any clearly Asian customers had recently left.

With that the two men left satisfied that the Triad man had been suitably tricked into believing that two native Chinese men whom belonged to another triad sect had attacked them and the information they had was adequate.

…/|\\...


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"The award ceremony starts at seven, but we will need to be ready long before then. City Hall actually has some seriously good security. I mean the whole building was clearly designed by an idiot with no thought into possible attacks on the building, there are so many exit and entry points – even the windows on the top floor are easily accessible and by easily accessible I mean for freaking ninjas like you guys. There is no way I would be able to get up there in heels or in my sneakers either come to think of it."

As Felicity Smoak babbled away, the four vigilantes, whom had ample time to get used to Felicity's lack of brain to mouth filter, studied the various floor plans, pictures and live security feeds from the hacked security cameras.

"There are at least two security guards at every entry and exit point on the ground, all working personnel get hand checked for weapons, and guests are expected to pass through a metal detector." Slade evaluated.

"That rules out any of us hiding in the crowd as either guests or workers considering the time frame. If we had more time we could, but seeing as its tonight, it would be easier to not bother." Oliver hummed, "The balconies on the third floor will all be clear, a zip line from the opposing skyscraper should do the job."

"Lawton's best position would be here." Shado pointed to another building, not exactly a skyscraper but multileveled complex that afforded an excellent view of the whole building, particularly the large presentation hall, which would be invaluable in a sniping operation.

The building also provided an excellent cover and the back alleyway would offer an untraceable escape route into the Glades were the Police and security cameras were few and the hiding places many.

The Vigilantes continued to discuss the finer details of the plan while Felicity started to check up on some other programs she'd been running in the background, quickly reading what she had unwittingly unearthed made her blood run cold.

_No. Oh God, No. I'm sorry, Oliver. I'm so sorry._ _I didn't want this._

She felt like a train had run her over. She didn't want to tell Oliver what she had just found out but she knew that she had no choice – he had a right to know the truth even if it destroyed his relationship with one of the only members of his family left and fueled his already dangerous hate to hazardous levels.

"Oliver," Her voice was teary and breathless, "You got to see this."

Frowning Oliver moved away from the others over to her, reading the official document and accompanying note quickly, he uncharacteristically swore loudly, "Son of a bitch."

"What's wrong, Oliver?" Shado asked.

"That motherfucker." Oliver swore again in utter astonishment, barely processing the information that had just been revealed to him.

Slade, Shado and Yao Fei looked over and read to the birth certificate on the glowing screen.

"Quite literally. Jesus, Kid, your family is messed up." Slade hid his shock behind barbed wit.

Shado reached out and pulled her arms around Oliver in a hug, "I'm so sorry, Oliver."

"Don't be. It appears that any question over my mother's involvement with Malcolm Merlyn has been put to rest. She knows all about the Undertaking and supports it. She really loved Malcolm more than Dad or me." Oliver could hardly take it. He had assumed that like last time, his mother was under duress when she helped Malcolm but this had blown any doubt of that out of the water.

The screen showed a scan of a birth certificate indicating Malcolm as Thea's biological father, but it was the handwritten note attached that caused Oliver so much pain. In a familiar elegant slanting hand the note that Oliver easily recognized as his mother's proclaimed, _'The Undertaking has my full support. I will not have our daughter be poisoned by those monsters. I know, unlike Robert, You will not fail me.'_

"Betrayal always hurts the worst from those closest to our hearts." Yao Fei's words of wisdom held little comfort for Oliver, whom ran his hands through his hair, his mind running overtime.

"Let's worry about Deadshot and then we'll sort this… complication out." Shado somehow said in a tone that was practical and comforting at the same time.

"Let's go over the plan again." Oliver was not going to let any information, no matter how overwhelming, stop him from continuing with the plans for tonight. He walked back over to the bird's eye floor plan which was marked with bright colour-coded symbols; brilliant orange for Slade, light blue for Shado, fluorescent green for Oliver and pure white for Yao Fei.

The soft beeping broke the silence; bows, swords and guns seemed to materialize out of thin air into their hands, Felicity locking all the computers with a few taps on her tablet. The beeping was an indicator from the motion sensors that they installed, which instead of turning on a light as they were commercially made for, sent a signal to a device that beeped to warn them of an unknown presence moving outside the building.

Oliver instinctively moved in front of Felicity, his guns trained on the door but in an instant they could be directed anywhere in the building. Slade moved stealthily towards the door, Yao Fei and Shado took positions several steps behind Slade on the edges of the room, bows drawn.

The door opened and Diggle walked in, he seemed to be expecting the unwelcome reception. Seeing who it was, they four relaxed but one of Slade's swords were not sheathed, arrows were still nocked, though they were not directly aimed at anything, and Oliver had yet to actually holster his guns.

Diggle put up his hands in the classic surrender motion, "She was already here before me."

Amanda Waller walked in with her usual strict militaristic style, acting like she owned the place and the people within. Lyla Diggle, beside her, looking unmistakably unconvinced, she clearly did not approve of whatever the head of A.R.G.U.S was barging in here for.

The team stayed in their more 'relaxed' stances but did not move to lower their weapons further or take their suspicious eyes off Waller – none of them forgetting that it was her that paid Flyers or forced them to work for her against their will. Diggle moved across the room next to Felicity, he had never approved of having her join the team, and protected her himself whenever possible.

"I have a proposal for you."

Shado, the self-appointed diplomatic speaker – Oliver being too stubborn, Slade being too untrusting and Yao Fei preferring to not say much at all – lowered her bow enough to appear relatively unthreatening, "And why should we listen to a proposal from you, Miss Waller."

"Because I know Deadshot's target."

"So do we." Shado's answer was sharp and cold.

"It is not Malcolm Merlyn as you fairly assume. Frank Chen, it appears is even stupider than even I thought possible."

"Who could he kill that would result in an event worse than an angry vengeful league of assassins?" Slade spoke out, breaking convention.

Oliver froze, thinking through the list of guests invited to the award night connecting the dots quickly, his grip tightening on his weapons, "Moria Merlyn, my mother."

"Killing her would initiate a war between the Triad and their allies and Merlyn and his. Once both sides are finished ravaging the city, Starling city will be far worse off than even Gotham." Amanda explained.

"It doesn't matter who the target is, the result will be the same – one dead sniper before he gets the chance to fire one bullet." Proclaimed Slade, his blades gleaming ominously in the bright artificial light.

"And that is exactly why I'm here. Deadshot had special uses that could be very valuable to ARGUS, I want you to capture him for me."

"Why don't you send in your own agents if you want Deadshot so much?" Shado questioned.

"Because Frank Chen is foolish enough to employ an insurance, if you like – He's sending in Deathstroke with Lawton."

"Copycats." Slade's Katana only seemed to be griped impossibly tighter in his hand. The one thing Slade hated the most– aside from traitors – were men idiotic enough to try and revive the fear of Deathstroke once more for their own nefarious selfish ends. To take his own hard work and ruin it with their stupidity.

Slade wasn't proud of what he did under that name with Wintergreen but too much of his life had gone into creating that monstrous legend, he didn't want it to be destroyed, or worse, reanimated once more by men whom were killing for pleasure and not for the greater good like he and Billy once did.

…/|\\...

"What is this so called proposition, Waller?" Shado may not have the borderline hate for the head of ARGUS like Oliver and Slade did, but she retained an intense dislike for her despite her own forgiving and understanding inherent nature.

"You and your father will work alongside Agent Lyla – you can even bring Diggle with if you want – to capture and subdue Deadshot, bringing him to the ARGUS facility near Starling City. Wilson and Queen–"

Amanda Waller's hate for the two men was mutual and showed itself in her insistence of referring to them solely by their last names, if she ever referred to them directly at all.

"–Will dispose of 'Deathstroke'. I'm sending in because – aside from your hate for imposters – if even a hint, to either the Triad or Merlyn, that ARGUS aware of their increasing presence could be disastrous for the future, it could create problems that would be difficult to dispel of quietly."

"A moment of private discussion if you please, Miss Waller." Yao Fei replaced his white and black fletched arrow back into quiver and led the way down to the basement below- well out of Waller's hearing range, natural or otherwise.

Shado and Slade followed suit while Oliver hoisted his guns and took Felicity's arm conscious to bring him with her to the level below. Once out of the keen sight of Amanda Waller, Felicity started to use her tablet to hack into the ARGUS mainframe to confirm Waller's supposed information.

"I don't like it." Oliver immediately said once the thick metal door was closed.

"You don't like anything Waller suggests." Shado pointed out fairly despite being somewhat exasperated by Oliver's continuous prejudice.

"I don't like her new idea to capture Deadshot, something about it doesn't feel right about it. Waller's planning something and I doubt it will be agreeable – or honorable for that matter." Oliver added the last statement darkly.

"It doesn't matter at the moment how agreeable or honorable Waller's future plans for Deadshot are, this is an excellent chance to get even with Waller. A way to make her back off if she tries something like Flyers again – even if it can only be used once." Slade said, only really agreeing to the plan because he wanted to get rid of 'Deathstroke' group than actually wanting to do anything that could be classed as helpful for the morally questionable Amanda 'The Wall' Waller.

"Miss Waller's major plans are usually not agreeable. Oliver's right, something about this is not right, we may regret doing this for her in the future." Yao Fei was the only one of them that bothered to call the head of ARGUS 'Miss Waller' out of her esteemed company, if ever at all.

"If she really wants Deadshot and we refuse, she will find another way to lay her hands on him, you know what she's like. We should agree to the plan but keep watch over any of ARGUS's future plans for Deadshot. Besides," Shado's mouth quirked up into an ironic smile, "Being able to force Waller to give us a favor could be very useful in the future, ARGUS isn't exactly known for making agreeable plans, but we may need a favor from Amanda more than we regret saving Deadshot."

"Done," Felicity loudly pronounced, "I mean – the file's downloading, just give it a second – well more than a second, the internet is not that great down here. I should fix that later, shouldn't I? There we go. It's done now." Felicity looked up to see half amused half irritated faces and blushed profusely despite being used to being caught in mid ramble.

"Umm… Sorry?" Felicity continued, "Anyway, she's not wrong – Waller, I mean. Not anyone else not that anyone else was being referred to in any way. Moria Merlyn is the intended target for Floyd Lawton AKA Deadshot."

Felicity swung around on her heel to face Oliver, "I'm just wondering but why is she the target? I don't understand – wouldn't Malcolm be a smarter target?"

"Chen doesn't know that Merlyn himself is the Dark Archer, he naively believes that the Dark Archer is merely a mercenary paid to deal with Malcolm's disillusioned associates. Chen believes that killing Moria will send a message of fear to Merlyn – and if he was an ordinary businessman it would – sending him into panic; Chen thinks that Malcolm may stop or at least delay the Undertaking until he knows who is attacking his family. Unfortunately this action will only anger Malcolm speeding up the undertaking."

"Ohhhh… I get it now."

"Wonderful." Slade abruptly interceded before Felicity went on another tangent, "Let's get back to Waller. We wouldn't want to keep the exalted company waiting."

The metal steps clanged loudly as they made their ascent despite the fact that four of them were something like ninjas when it came to quiet movement – only Felicity had an excuse with her brilliant cerise heels.

As they entered the main room a glance showed little had changed – Diggle was sitting on the table by the computers, Waller with her back ramrod straight was still near the entrance door, Lyla was beside on the other side of the door her right hand fingering the holster of her gun.

Fanning out taking strategic positions around the room – Slade on the right side by the training mats, Oliver near the computers bringing Felicity with him, Yao Fei near the left of the weapon's rack and finally Shado whom walked straight up to Waller, ready to be the appointed diplomat between the two practically hostile parties.

"We accept your proposition, Miss Waller."

With a raised eyebrow Amanda Waller asked, "But?"

"One condition only – a favor that may be used at _any_ time in the future."

A minute of clearly conflicted mental argument in Waller's head lead to a small frown on her serious face as she could find no plausible reason to dispute their offer, or a safer alternative to said condition, "I agree to your terms. Lyla you will stay and monitor the operation. You may injure Deadshot if he resists, and this so called 'Deathstroke' would preferably be disposed of permanently."

With none of them having any more viable qualms, the head of ARGUS left feeling distinctly unsatisfied, despite her assurances that none of them could even begin to guess her plans for Deadshot or the other potential members of the Suicide Squad.

Amanda Waller knew just how cunning and destructive the Vigilantes could be if they chose to be – and she hoped that they wouldn't use their little 'favor' to intercede with one of her more important plans because if they did, it could get very bloody, very quickly.

But for now she was fairly pleased that they had not only accepted the offer but were guaranteed to get rid of that pesky group of amateur killers that were swelled on their own minor successes and natural arrogance. It would be nice to see those idiots taken down and disposed of quietly while at the same time discouraging any other moron from picking up an orange and black mask, learning some basic sword maneuvers and christening themselves after well-known supposedly-dead serial-killer mercenaries.

…/|\\...


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Her beautiful sparkly shoulder-less navy blue knee length dress with its modest neckline wrapped easily around the elegance that was Moria Merlyn née Queen née Dearden. As she easily weaved her graceful way through the well-dressed crowd stopping every now and then to exchange greetings and compliments to numerous billionaires, powerful politicians and other various persons of influence.

Not one head failed to turn to watch the Ice Queen as she approached her current husband whom was wearing a dark but impeccable suit aside his equally immaculately groomed son, everyone who was anyone in the room knew that Malcolm Merlyn was going to be the unopposed winner for the yearly humanitarian award for Starling City.

She linked her arm with her husband's, a simple gesture of fondness but for two people who rarely, if ever, show any kind of affection, they were acting positively loving. Beside them, Tommy Merlyn was greeting his own lover.

Laurel Lance was wearing a simple red dress with a ruffled bodice which hugged her curvy body tightly, with its low neckline and short length, it left little of her gorgeous physique to the imagination. Her body which was equally matched by her brilliant mind, a figure which had attracted the two most notorious billionaire playboys in Starling City, and still captivated the Merlyn scion.

A sudden hush fell over the influential crowd as the host of the event, The Mayor of Starling City, took to the small podium. The lights dimmed, bar the spotlight on the sleek glass dais, and the white clothed waiters tactfully retreated to the edges of the large, opulently decorated room.

The Mayor began his predictably boring and repetitive speech on the greatness of Starling City and the various 'misfortunes' that the city's wealthy had overcome in the past year with absolutely no mention of the corruption that the Hoods had revealed within the city's rich and powerful, or the steadily declining state of the Glades and the tragedies that had plagued that wretched region and the many innocent people suffering within it.

As the insufferable man drawled on and on, subliminally reminding all in the room that he wasn't elected mayor for his orating skills but rather for his innate weak, greedy and easily manipulated nature, six men dressed in white waiter's garb simultaneously stepped out of the room into pre-prepared closet-like rooms hidden with the equipment of their newly chosen trade of being copycat mercenaries.

Several drawn out minutes later most of the guests, although many seasoned in the art of ignoring long dreary speeches, were struggling to keep their polite smiles and attentive image before what was the singularly most monotonous, tedious, and wearisome speech he had ever given. It was also, unbeknownst to the uninterested audience and the mayor himself, was to be his last.

As the Mayor finally began to finish his monologue, preparing the gathering for the final award of the night, a zip line quietly attacked to the third floor terrace of the decorative building from the roof of a hotel beside the designated 'Deadshot' multiplex.

"And the Winner of this year's Humanitarian Honor for Starling City for his consistent effort in shaping and helping the wonderful citizens of this city is awarded to… Malcolm Merlyn." The afore mentioned man detached himself from his courtly second wife and walked through the obliging crowd towards the dramatic podium.

Slade and Oliver stealthily made their way down the stairwell and through corridors, not wishing to risk the elevator because of the 'Deathstroke' impersonators, easily dispatching any unfortunate security that got in their way. Once on the ground floor the two separated as planned, Slade heading left and Oliver right.

Slade slipped past two messily decapitated guards whom were supposed to be guarding the closed main doors – clearly the 'Deathstroke' intimidators had already pierced the two outer layers of security with only the guards directly inside left breathing. Slade opened one of the discreet outer doors meant for staff and walked out into the cool night, staying in the shadows he moved along, watching the preceding events inside through the floor to ceiling glass, scaling a large old Oak tree for a better view, patiently waiting for Oliver to get in position.

Oliver crept further into the eerily unpopulated building, to the right side of the atrium, scanning the walls, stepping over several bodies dispatched by at least three different members of Deathstroke according to the carelessly amateur footprints left in the blood. He soon found what he was looking for, the main air-vent between the corridor and the room that the guests and the fake 'Deathstrokes' resided.

The only problem was that it was two stories above him. Thinking quickly Oliver moved an empty shelving unit against the plain wall and used it as a makeshift ladder. Using a trick arrow dart, he pried the metal grill that separated the two rooms, crouching in the small space in the wall.

Oliver silently watched the proceedings below, scanning the crowds he saw, with a jolt, that not only was Malcolm and his mother present but Laurel and Tommy too. Reaching towards his emerald hood he turned on the voice modifier, feeling that it would be a prudent measure. It would not do for anyone to recognize his voice, let alone his former family and friends. Slipping a signature green arrow into the taunt bow string, ready to fire, he waited patiently for the inevitable fight ahead.

As the short but surprisingly memorable speech of Malcolm Merlyn – the selected Humanitarian of the year by the Starling City Municipal group (Of which the Irony was not lost on the Green clad vigilante) – came to a rather hushed end, the 'Deathstroke' team made their move. The lights of the building flickered off leaving only the dim moonlight from the waning crescent moon.

Stirring on the outer edges of the room, four of the men slipped on the iconic masks and dealt with the inner security and within seconds had all exits covered, despite their earlier inadequacy. The other two men slit the throats of the personal, their orange and black masks already covering their faces, behind the podium flanking both the mayor and Merlyn in one tactical stroke.

The two masked men almost literally threw the two men upon the floor; the mayor all but brawling in fear, and Malcolm all but physically restraining himself from fighting back. Screams and shouts of fear and surprise form the audience punctured the perfectly air-conditioned atmosphere of the large glass atrium.

A shower of bullets pierced the ceiling as one of the men aside the dais shot his gun demanding silence from his new hostages. Said hostages were forced to the floor, the four men compelling with either their guns or swords to any unfortunately unwilling soul. From their opposing perches, Slade and Oliver mentally planned out the fight that they were about to start, knowing their own weaknesses and strengths, and also naturally assessing those of the men below.

Like a map in their mind, a plan formed between them perfectly detailed to the millisecond, no words or communication necessary. They identified the left man on the stage as the leader, and by his stance, possibly the only man that could be considered a threat compared to his amateur fellows.

Ignoring the microphone the leader of the men on the dais, called out in a naturally warped voice, "No one move."

The man on the right, clearly second-in-command, began to walk through the hostages, looking at each of their faces individually, awkwardly twirling his low grade steel swords in his unexperienced hands. Making his way, deliberately focusing on the women, confirmation that Waller was right about the target not being Malcolm Merlyn.

The archer watched the swordsman out of the corner of his eye coolly while keeping most of his focus on the armed men dotted throughout the room all the while slowly counting down mentally.

_Three._

The man moved only three women away from Moria Merlyn.

_Two._

The four outer men's stances had become unforgivably relaxed.

_One._

The Leader's hand moved off the trigger for one relapsed second.

…/|\\...

Glass shattered as the Onyx Dueller smashed through the window, immediately engaging two men in combat, moving towards the supposed 'Leader' of 'Deathstroke'. At the same moment, a green arrow shot through deputy 'Deathstroke's' neck, killing him instantly.

The Emerald Archer hit the ground with an expert roll, taking on the other two men in combat. Within seconds the Onyx Dueller had killed both of his targets with deadly efficiency – sliding his perfectly balanced swords through the only two weak points in the liberal body armour that characterized 'Deathstroke', through the throat and a chink in the back.

Blood dripping from his blades in a fearsome manner as Slade strode towards the unfortunate man. The leader made to grab the closest hostage only to have his gun torn from his hand by an arrow.

Looking around the room he saw only the dead members of his former team and terrified hostages, whom were still scrambling ineffectively away from the corpses and blood. Cursing the lack of help from – in his mind, cowardly – Deadshot, whom by now should have taken a shot at his attackers or at the target, singling out Moria Merlyn was only a mere formality and a show of power rather than actually necessary for a man of Deadshot's skill.

A show of power. That was all this job was supposed to be, now his five unexceptional yet cruel and destructive teammates lay dead and a deadly hooded vigilante with gleaming bloody swords was stalking towards him like a cheetah trailing a deer. He knew that there was no way he could win a fight such as this, despite his relatively high level of proficiency with swords, he was not even near the level of this darkly clothed man in front of him.

As the supposed leader of 'Deathstroke' shaking hands clasped the cheaply leather bound handles of his swords, The Onyx Dueller was almost upon him, moving towards his prey with almost unnatural ease, savouring the moment before the kill. Backing away slowly, he pulled the blade free to reveal the low grade steel.

Taking a naturally defensive stance against his superior – in both skill and weapon quality – opponent, behind the mask the copycat knew that he could not win this fight, but he could just possibly survive it, if he played his cards right. There was only one accessible exit that he could use, the others being barred by the two vigilantes, a subtle grey emergency exit door positioned to the left just behind him.

The Emerald Archer watched almost amused as the last 'Deathstroke' masked man edged obviously towards the escape door trying vainly to escape a seriously pissed off Slade Wilson, he would feel pity for the unfortunately doomed man but he was stupid enough to pretend to be Deathstroke and, despite imitation often being considered the highest form of flattery, Slade didn't appreciate people ruining the legend in which he had put so much sweat and blood, sacrifices of his son's voice, of his wife's trust, and of five years in purgatory away from his children.

Oliver walked nimbly through the still sacred crowds of well-dressed men and women scattered desperately upon the cool stone floor. As he moved, he was subconsciously drawn towards 'Deathstroke' team's and Deadshot's target.

Standing in front of Moria Merlyn, odd emotional waves of hate and longing clashed inside of him. This women before him was both his loving mother and the cold bitch that sent her husband and son to die on an explosive rigged boat. Both the mother whom would comfort him from nightmares as a child and the Ice Queen that was planning to murder thousands of people for a crazed vengeful assassin.

He turned away, lingering for but a second, before firing a trick arrow at the barred glass main doors. Running up through the crowds towards the podium, the explosive device easily ripped through the lock and glass shattered everywhere.

"_Go."_ Thanking that he had the foresight to turn on his small electronic voice modifier on his hood before entering the room. Oliver commanded the former hostages out of the building away from the corpse's and the final fight between Slade and the last orange and black masked man. Knowing that the police must only be a few minutes away, it was crucial that all the attention was on them rather than on the building across the road where Deadshot was being captured by Shado and Yao Fei.

They had been very careful about having all four of them on the field at once, it was smarter and safer for their enemies to assume that there was only two of them. It gave them an edge that they never had on the island, and an edge, any edge, was crucial in a fight no matter how good you were.

Slade heard Oliver's command and knew that he had to draw the fight out to at least a minute. It was vital that they were 'accidentally' seen by the police, so that a chase of some sort would endure. While this chaos was occurring no one would notice an unregistered dark van from across the street carrying one highly skilled sniper driving out of Starling City towards one of the A.R.G.U.S. Bases scattered across America.

Twirling his swords expertly, he jumped straight into the offensive. The other man blocked his strikes with some expertise but not enough to have any advantage aside from luck in this fight. Slade internally frowned, he needed this fight to last, and clearly fighting offensive was not going to do that.

Slade knew that luck could sometimes be enough to win a fight against even the best of opponents. Hell, in the early days the Kid proved that time and time again. So he didn't let down his guard, but deliberately slowed his pace, matching 'Deathstrokes' blades with his own, defending rather than attacking.

Under the mask, the man suddenly found himself keeping up with this master swordsman, with this bust of confidence he began to throw more strength into his strikes, and even loosen his defence in favour of a more aggressive offence. Slade restrained himself from taking several obvious, at least in his view, kill shots and stayed in the defensive.

Sirens wailed in the background and 'Deathstrokes' hits became even more desperate and, after one particularly obvious hesitation on the Onyx Dueller's part, 'Deathstroke' realizes that he was being played with, that he was a pawn playing – metaphorically – against a queen.

"SCPD, drop your weapons." Quinton Lance's yell was ignored by both vigilantes, well used to his annoying habit of essentially believing the vigilantes would actually just drop their weapons when being confronted with the Law and policemen whose aim was pitiful to say at the very least.

But 'Deathstroke', unused to a senseless detective screaming ridiculously at men whom could kill him without second thought, turned his head slightly for the smallest of seconds. This second turned out to be his last as Slade, finally sick of playing with him, slit his throat with deadly and accurate ease.

Without a signal, the Onyx Dueller and the Emerald Archer turned as one and disappeared into the shadows; Detective Lance predictably ran out with his gun held out in front of him ineffectually, not even bothering to check the leader of 'Deathstrokes' body for life knowing that the Onyx Dueller never missed.

Kicking open the emergency door only meters away the two vigilantes had scaled a fire escape, Lance ran through the alleyways now convinced he had an upper hand knowing the area well, including one short cut through the block, which was faster than even running along the rooftops.

As he burst through the alley his gun was torn from his hands by a green arrow. Looking left he saw the two vigilantes mounting their motorcycles, and with a mock wave from the Onyx Dueller, driving off into the messy web of traffic that encased Starling City's streets. Behind him his partner Detective Hilton swore in frustration as the vigilantes gave them the slip all too easily, yet again.

…/|\\...


	13. Chapter 13

A relatively simple job. Just another rich bitch, albeit a surprisingly well protected one, but one nonetheless. It was made easier by the help of 'Deathstroke.' Lawton didn't bother to question why the women needed to die, or why the Triad was going to so much fuss over her, or why some idiots had decided to pretend to be the famed, and very much dead, Deathstroke.

It was, he had decided upon hearing of their involvement, their funeral. If they wanted to take such a stupid chance they could in his opinion, they were so pathetic it wouldn't exactly lower their odds in this hellish world of killing, targets and money, that much either way.

Walking easily up the steep concrete stairs, stopping at each small landing to check for any sign of a righteous follower, any weird unfortunate or homeless soul that had decided to haunt the empty building for the night.

Quickly ascertaining that there was no one to evict, particularly on the upper floors, Deadshot unpicked the rusted lock to the building's rooftop door with relative ease.

Scanning the surrounding buildings habitually, Floyd Lawton placed the duffle bag that he had slung over his shoulder in the left corner of the building. Kneeling, he unzipped the cloth away from his precious new sniper rifle and custom signature red eyepiece.

Snipers are a strange breed, always fixating over accuracy. It becomes something of an obsession to mentally, and some annoying cases to verbally, discuss the weights of projectile heads, the power of various powder loads, how much a bullet will wind-drift, how far it will drop over innumerable distances, and whether yet another tiny improvement can be made to their rifle.

Each sniper has their own favorite gun, each for their own reasons. Some snipers like the miniscule bullet like the M700 round out of the Remington.308 while others prefer the M21, the sniper version of the M14 standard combat rifle.*

Some even still idolize the heaviest of all – the Barrett Light Fifty – a monster which sends a bullet the size of a human finger speeding with enough force to make a human body explode.*

Lawton currently had decided to use the Sako TRG .338 Lapua*. It wasn't his favorite but the Triad were unable to acquire anything better, let alone the Cheytac M-200 .408 Magnum* that he preferred for jobs such as this, and after his near death experience with the Vigilante Duo of Starling, he decided against using his usual routes for gun procuration, hoping that his client and the Triad showed the discretion he demanded in dealing with his involvement.

Setting the gun on his shoulder, looking through his red eyepiece through the scope and smiled hollowly. The Puppet Mayor of Starling City stood at the glass podium droning on while the high class audience looked on bored, struggling to keep up their masks of sophistication, some not even pretending to care for the inane and weak man.

Watching the final ridiculous flourish of the Mayor with morbid amusement, Deadshot turned his attention away from the podium, the image of the scope briefly flitted over Malcolm Merlyn before coming to a rest on Moria Merlyn.

Looking through the scope he to notice of her beautiful jewelry, wondering for the minutest of seconds what she would pay for her own life if she knew how close to death she was.

Shutting down those sympathetic and sordidly human thoughts, Deadshot entered the coldest of all mindsets. There was no women in front of him, only the perfect target. A target, that once hit, would give him money to send back to his only daughter.

If he couldn't be a proper or even present father, then at least this money would help her in ways that he couldn't. This rationale froze his humanity and the façade of Deadshot, one of the greatest marksmen of all time with no regard for human life and even less for his own, took over.

Then 'Deathstroke' made their move. The lights of the building flickered off. Stirring on the outer edges of the room, four of the men slipped on the iconic masks and dealt with the inner security and within seconds had all exits covered.

The other two men slit the throats of the personal, their orange and black masks already covering their faces, behind the podium flanking both the mayor and Malcolm Merlyn in one stroke.

The two masked men almost literally threw the two men upon the floor, the mayor all but brawling in fear.

_Pathetic._

Even from across the street the screams and shouts of fear and surprise from the unappreciative audience could be heard.

_Like music to my ears._

A shower of bullets pierced the ceiling as one of the men aside the dais shot his gun demanding silence and obedience from his new hostages. Said hostages were forced to the floor, the four men compelling with either their guns or swords to any unfortunate unwilling soul. The leader of the men stepped up onto the dais, threatening the hostages into motionless state.

The man on the right, clearly second-in-command, began to walk through the hostages, looking at each of their faces individually, awkwardly twirling his low grade steel swords in his unexperienced hands.

Making his way, deliberately focusing on the women, Deadshot sighed at their incompetence but waited, deciding that sticking to the plan was better than taking initiative in this operation. The mental count down started in Deadshot's mind, readying himself for the kill.

_Three._

The gun felt heavy on his shoulder but made no movement.

_Two._

He placed his hand on the trigger, taking a deep breath, steading his hand.

_One._

He hesitated for possibly the first time in his career as a mercenary. Something felt instinctively wrong. Through the scope he saw the glass windows shatter and he recoiled unconsciously.

He saw a double wielding swordsman engage two of 'Deathstroke' in seconds while green arrows pierced the other mercenaries with horrifyingly deadly accuracy. The Emerald Archer and Onyx Dueler had made their destructive presence known.

…/|\\...

Knowing that now he too would be a target if he stayed any longer, he dismantled his gun in seconds, stowing it back in his bag, not wanting to be the Vigilante's next victim. This mission wasn't really worth losing his other eye. Crossing the Triad was a lessor danger than placing himself in the vicinity of those wretched vigilantes again.

Glancing around despite seeing both of the Hoods across the street, Deadshot saw a dark shape flitter at the edge of his vision and he instinctively rolled away, taking cover behind a large air-conditioning unit. A midnight blue arrow tore the duffle bag away from his fingers, not that its contents would be that much use in such close confines.

Touching his wrist straps he felt his two custom hand mounted guns loaded with multitudes of his signature poison bullets. Listening carefully to the darkness around him, he heard a scuffling sound and fired to his left. Shado gracefully avoiding the bullets with an easy natural beauty that only she seemed to be able to pull off in an almost perfectionist style.

"Who are you, girlie?" Deadshot was confused, the only bow wielding vigilante he had ever faced was down in the Town Hall across the street; besides the Dark Archers and the league of assassins used black arrows, not blue ones. Though this was a women, although clearly not a league member, was just as skilled with a bow and using the shadows as a weapon.

After no answer, Deadshot trains his guns in the empty darkness, ready for her next attack. Suddenly Lawton found his throat being slowly squashed by an iron-like arm. Black spots danced across his vision, he lifted his arms, scratching and scrabbling, to try and relieve the grip, but to avail.

"She's not alone." Yao Fei whispered quietly as Deadshot slipped into unconsciousness in his arms.

Shado melted out of the surrounding darkness and appeared by her father's side, her bow in hand. She stooped down to recover her arrow and the duffle bag, knowing that Slade had this thing for examining and judging a marksman by his weapon, often Diggle, Oliver and Yao joined in with this weird judgment ceremony that only seemed to be able to be understood by men. Shado had long since given up trying to understand male testosterone and obsession about having the biggest guns – so to speak.

Rolling the unconscious man downstairs with the help of Diggle and Lyla took some interesting maneuvers but they managed and placed the man into the A.R.G.U.S. unnamed vehicle, ready for transportation.

Diggle looked down on the man that killed his brother Andy but restrained himself; for Lyla, for his honor, for the fear of what the hell Amanda Waller would do if he screwed up one of her precious plans.

Lyla and Diggle entered the front of the vehicle, while the two hooded vigilantes stayed in the back of the vehicle with Lawton. Weaving through the traffic, Diggle avoided the many cop cars speeding ineffectively in the other direction.

Stopping a block from the warehouse, Yao Fei and Shado slipped out of the vehicle and into the darkness while Lyla took custody of Floyd Lawton and Diggle began to drive out of town towards the closest A.R.G.U.S. base.

Two motorcycles revved through the streets stopping at the warehouse, wheeling the bikes into a modified dumpster that was changed specifically to house their vehicles, Slade and Oliver met Yao Fei and Shado inside the warehouse, each automatically tending to their weapons in relative silence.

Felicity sat surrounded by her computers, tapping away happily as she hacked into the SCPD's databases to see what they thought of the incident at Humanitarian Ceremony at City Hall while following the tracker she placed on the A.R.G.U.S. vehicle to monitor its progress to confirm Deadshot's location.

Slade sat sharpening his sword while Oliver started to replace the arrows he had fired during the battle. Shado was checking Oliver and Slade over, despite their insistence that they were perfectly uninjured.

"Guys, you need to see this." Felicity switched one of her many monitors to the news broad cast.

The journalist stood outside the City Hall, the lights of multiple police cars flashing behind her. The sounds of city life interfering with the otherwise silent building.

"I'm outside the City Hall where the famous Vigilantes have struck again. Only an hour ago the guests for the yearly Starling City Humanitarian award ceremony were terrorized by six men whom were intent on impersonating the well-known mercenaries titled 'Deathstroke'. Deathstroke were reputably some of the greatest mercenaries ever known but simply disappeared under suspicious circumstances more than five years ago."

The screen changed to show the haunting half-black, half-orange mask of Deathstroke.

"These impersonators were, however, intercepted by the Vigilantes in a massacre that has left six bodies of small time local criminals. It is still unknown who the true target of these men, the police insist that they are close to an answer but to add to the mayhem the so-called Dark Archers have struck again, only minutes after the Vigilantes, killing a man in his car only a block from the City Hall despite the multitudes of Police cars swarming the area."

The reporter now moved towards a group of policemen huddled together, discussing quietly, one of them holding a green arrow while another had a Deathstroke mask, both incased in plastic evidence bags.

"Detective Lance, as the head of the Vigilante Task Force, is there any hope in catching any of these men any time soon?"

"I can assure you that the SCPD has dedicated the necessary resources to help focus on the apprehension of these Vigilantes. We ask the public for their continued support against these murderers, no one can hid forever, we will catch these lawbreakers and they will face the law."

"You are continuously calling them murderers, and lawbreakers, but how else can you explain the depreciating rate of crime in Starling since the Hoods arrived, especially as the SCPD has been using so many necessary resources to find these men?"

Detective Lance looked loss for words for a few seconds before another police officer walked over to Lance, before signaling for his attention.

"Give us a minute." Lance said quickly.

The reporter, disgruntled, continued, "One of the witnesses has agreed to give us an exclusive interview on the horrific events of tonight. Can you explain what you saw happen tonight?"

A random bystander came forward and began a lengthy but slightly irrelevant rant on what had happened starting with an odd rendition on why he was going to the pet shop two streets away at this time of night, continuing with a slightly off topic tangent on the cost of the building repairs these days, and finishing with a vague account of what he saw from over 200 meters away, mostly consisting of shattering glass, high pitched screams, and lights being flickered on and off.

Finally Detective Lance finished talking with the other policemen and made his way back to the reporter.

"We have identified the victim of the Dark Archers as Frank Chen, a wealthy businessman who up until five years ago was a resident of Starling City..."

Oliver cursed at the announcement.

"How could Merlyn have worked it out so quickly?" Felicity questioned.

"I don't know. It doesn't make sense." Shado frowned.

"Maybe Merlyn saw Frank Chen in the car outside waiting to see what happened and jumped to conclusions and killed him just to be sure." Oliver suggested.

"It isn't in the league's teachings to kill people simply because they are suspicious though." Shado countered.

"He is no longer affiliated with the league, and emotions may get the better of any man, even one trained to have none."

"What is more worrying is how he managed to get to his weapons so quickly, he must have either brought them with him, or have a stronghold nearby."

"I'm cross-referencing all the likely places to hold weapons discreetly within a half hour travel area of the building, but I can already tell that the list will be long." Felicity stated efficient as ever.

"It doesn't matter how they knew or how they got their weapons so quickly, we have more important things to worry about." Slade interrupted the discussion.

"Like what? Did you chip your stupid swords again?" Felicity was one of the few that wasn't completely intimidated by Slade's build, and took full advantage of Slade's almost ridiculous obsession with his Katanas.

"Nyssa al Ghul for one." Slade pointed at one of the many screens that Felicity had up and running. This one was depicting the airport check-in lists while cross-referencing with the A.R.G.U.S alert system. Nyssa Raakto flashed across the screen, blaring with an angry red light.

…/|\\...

*Authors note: I know next to nothing about guns so everything in this chapter was found on the internet – so if it doesn't make sense or is just plain wrong – don't blame me.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Sara's footsteps echoed quietly down the surprisingly empty halls of Merlyn Global. It was midmorning but on the upper levels of the high rise that was the very center of Starling's wealth – the combined effort of more than three generations of the families of Merlyn and Queen – the burning sun poured in through the floor to ceiling windows warming Sara's skin which was pale from all the years spent in Nanda Parbat.

As she reached the end of the long corridor just before the doors of The Magician's office, she instinctively turned and surveyed the long corridor behind her. In the predictably impressive and cunning fashion - the trademark of Ra's al Ghul's best students and in particular the Magician – there was no way in, aside the door on the other end, which could easily be blocked electronically and physically.

The glass windows were bullet and shatterproof, not that it mattered too much, Merlyn Consolidated Tower quite literally towered above the other skyscrapers and was cleverly placed in a plot of land that was surrounded by smaller buildings of which none reached above five floors.

Hidden somewhere on this floor there was a base of operations for Malcolm Merlyn and his son to access the customary black clothing worn by the League of Shadows, and enough weapons to equip a small army against almost every conceivable attack. The technology mayn't have been as advanced as a certain covert government operations sect, but it was greater than any used by any other League members.

These thoughts ran though Sara's head as she finally placed her hands upon the cool metal door handle.

_There is no way out. No weapons to use. If I enter there is no escape. _

But she also knew that it would be dangerous to back out of this meeting, any hint that she was even the slightest bit wary of Merlyn, he would sniff her out like a bloodhound, and she knew in her heart that she could never defeat Malcolm Merlyn alone. With a deep breath she pushed against the door and walked into the office with her head held high.

What struck her first was the size of the office. It easily took up much of the entire floor, in fact, Sara suspected that the only floor space that wasn't used for the office was for a base of operations. The office itself was well furnished with plush carpet, ornate mahogany furniture, equally stylish and costly art, and glass cases in which displayed ancient artefacts of other nations including those of Tibet, China, Japan, Egypt, and The Middle East.

Malcolm Merlyn stood by the floor to ceiling windows, looking out on Starling City with an almost hungry look upon his face. As Sara entered, his face was wiped clean of all emotion and a mask of polite courtesy and vague interest settled into place.

"Miss Lance, I see you are looking better."

"Yes, Mr Merlyn. It appear that my return to Starling City was easier than I first believed."

"Excellent. I have no doubt that you are wondering why I have arranged for this meeting for you Miss Lance."

"Yes, Mr Merlyn."

"Please," He said with a sharp edge, "Call me Malcolm."

"Then call me Sara."

"If you insist, Sara. I called for this meeting to offer you a job at Merlyn Consolidated."

"A job?" Out of the possibilities for this meeting, a job was one she had barely considered. Suspicion swept through Sara, as did paranoia, there was no real reason he should hire her, she had no skills to offer in the business sect having barely started collage before she was invited aboard the Queen's Gambit by the seductive Ollie Queen.

"Yes, Sara. I would like to offer you a job here at Merlyn Consolidated."

"No offence, Malcolm, but why?"

"Sara, there is no delicate way to put this. Robert was my best friend, and it was on his boat that grief was caused unto you and I feel like it is my responsibility to compensate in any way. And with your collage degree interrupted as it was, a job at Merlyn Consolidated was the most elegant solution."

"Thank you, Malcolm. But I fear that I have no skills with business or technology, I do not understand how I could be integrated into Merlyn Consolidated. I am aware of my skills in languages now, but I do not wish to have any job that will take me away from Starling City any time soon."

"I understand your concerns, but it is not me you will be working for."

Sara stiffened her body slightly as footsteps fell on the soft carpet behind her.

"Hey, Sara."

Sara turned slowly to see Tommy Merlyn's frankly ridiculous smile staring back at her. He was leaning on one of the pillars, his lean body a testament to his time in Nanda Parbat.

Now this was someone she could beat in a fight. She remembered Nyssa telling her about the newest recruit a few months after she arrived in Nanda Parbat. Tommy would be no match for her in a fight, especially considering that he barely passed his training and is still considered one of the lowest level members of the league.

He would also be far easier to fool than his father, she obviously would still need to keep up her act but she was sure that even Oliver could fool Tommy into believing that he was no threat, and Oliver candidly failed at the direct lying which would be needed to convince Tommy that he was harmless.

"Tommy Merlyn. Nice to see you."

"Yeah, good to see you too." Another brilliant smile crossed his face and Sara fought the powerful urge to punch him in the head, repetitively.

"So how do feel like working as a manager at one of my clubs?"

"A manager?"

"I can't manage all of my clubs, especially with two more opening in Gotham and Central City. I need someone to supervise here in Starling while I get the new ones up and running. You won't have to do much for now, I will instruct you for a month before I will have to go to Central, and then Gotham."

Sara realized that this was a golden opportunity, this would keep her close to both the Merlyns for the next month, allowing her to collect evidence and confirm Oliver's accusations, still unsure how Oliver actually knew.

"Thank you, Tommy. But I warn you, I have never managed anything in my life."

"You can't be anymore hopeless than I was to begin with." Tommy's smiles were starting to get on Sara's nerves once more.

"And thank you, Malcolm. You really didn't need to do this."

"Yes I did, Sara. I'm sure you will be most apt at management, and a wonderful addition to the Merlyn Consolidated Entertainment sector." His voice was smooth and honeyed, sending shivers involuntarily down Sara's spine.

Sara stood to leave, taking the chilling compliment as a signal to leave. She passed Tommy quickly, her fingers twitching involuntarily.

"Bye Tommy, I'll report at Bane tomorrow – text me if there's anything you need me to bring."

As she pressed the palm of her hand against the cool glass of the door, Tommy reached out and grabbed her wrist in an iron grip.

"Sara – I don't know if Laurel told you but I'm holding a Charity Gala for CRNI, and you're invited."

"I guess I'll be seeing you tonight then." She sharply turned, needing to escape the oppressive presence of both Merlyns to reorganize her tumultuous thoughts, as she pressed the metal button of the lift, Tommy called out to her once more.

"Oh… and Sara. Bring a mask."

…/|\\...

The stupid black mask that clung to her face was as uncomfortable as it was unnecessarily lavish, Sara for an instant wished she could where her Black Canary mask instead of this rubbish but immediately quelled such dangerous and indulgent thoughts.

She turned her head to study her sister whom was wearing a matching black dress, if slightly more modest than her own, and a black mask that was somehow even more extravagant, with its sparkles and fake gems flashing in the golden glow of the Queen mansion.

As the pair entered the beautifully decadent Ballroom, Laurel was immediately swept into the waiting arms of Tommy Merlyn. Behind Tommy, Malcolm and Moria stood as a perfect pair of elegance and sophistication.

Moria's mask was gold, edged with traces of black and silver, while Tommy and Malcolm had matching plain black half-face masks which eerily matched her, and Laurel's own. For the briefest of moments Sara internally laughed at the ironic coloring of the masks.

"Good evening, Sara." Moria was as gracious as always.

"You too, Mrs. Merlyn. I have to say this masquerade is kinda fun." Sara replies with the carefree lightness that was her trademark before The Queen's Gambit sinking.

"Nice to see you're enjoying yourself." Malcolm Merlyn's smooth tone would be almost charming if it wasn't for the dark undertones that few could hear, much less understand for what it was – derision.

Sara faked a warm smile before lights flickered and dimmed.

Tommy smiled, kissed Laurel on the cheek and said, "That's my cue."

As Tommy walked through the crowd and up onto a podium that was set out for the night, Malcolm and Moria melted into the gathering and reappeared at the forefront of the crowd almost magically.

Sara picked up a glass from a passing waiter and stood with her sister, scanning the room involuntarily, a flicker of movement court her eye. At the back of the room, by a discreet staircase, Thea and Rose slipped up into the rest of the house and from the cautious facial expressions, they weren't just going upstairs to use the bathroom.

Placing the glass back down she moved towards the staircase, ignoring her sisters annoyed look at abandoning her just before Tommy's 'great' speech. Moving with a stealth that only accumulated after years of intense training, Sara crept up the stairs with considerable ease. Shadowing the two girls, she effortlessly tracked them up to Oliver's old room.

Inside the two girls were whispering excitedly, Sara stooped close to the door, pressing her ear against the expensive wooden paneling to listen in.

"He wouldn't lie, would he?" Thea's voice crackled with emotion.

"I don't know, he's your brother, this is the first time I've meet him."

"That's the problem, Rose. I don't know him. He's changed so much – he even sounds different."

"Although come to think of it – if he's friends with dad than he's probably a good liar. Seriously my father beats me at lying with, like, ease."

"Thanks for that input."

"No need to get sarcastic. He's still your brother, and he sounds like less of an ass than my father."

"From all your stories about your father, I'm not sure that being less of an ass than him is much of an achievement."

"Regardless, this is a kinda big thing to lie about. I think he genuinely wants you to know for your own… sanity?"

"Yes, Rose, because I'm totally going to be sane after finding out that Malcolm Merlyn is my birth father."

Stifling a gasp, Sara pulled away from the wall in surprise.

_Damn, things just aren't getting any better for you, Ollie._ The sick irony that one of the few people Oliver would ever trust being the daughter of one of the few men Oliver truly hated was not lost on Sara.

Deciding that it was unlikely that this revelation was a lie, and that either girls were going to talk about anything else useful to her mission. Sara ghosted through the mansion back to the ballroom, slipping back into the crowd with relative ease as Tommy finished his speech with a flourish and a huge check for the CRNI.

The music started and Sara watched as Tommy and Laurel danced together, if it wasn't for the matching loving smiles on their faces, they could have been mistaken to be going to funeral with their matching black attire.

Sara picked up another glass of alcohol from another waiter, not intending on drinking it, but prepared to use it as a subliminal signal that she didn't want to dance. She had already spotted at least six men, not all of them single, watching her with what one might call passionate interest.

Sara watched the dancing from the side of the room, and despite the glass still had to reject two insistent men. With a half-smile she watched as Laurel got increasingly jealous as Tommy danced with several different women in a quick succession.

Taking her eyes off her jealous sister for a second, Sara glanced at the staircase to see Rose and Thea together. Rose wore a pretty silver and orange dress, which fitted neatly on her slim yet flexible frame. Thea, unlike the rest of the Merlyns did not wear the customary funeral black, but a short floaty green dress with a dark blue sash.

Looking back at her sister, her blood ran cold when she saw the masked man dancing with her. Tall and perfectly muscled, moving with a hunter-like grace, his faced adorned with a simple green and silver mask that concealed his entire face aside from his cold blue-green eyes. Oliver.

Sara's emotions crackled inside her – What the hell was he doing here? And why, oh god why, was he dancing with Laurel, out of all the people?

"Care for a dance Miss Lance?"

Turning around she saw another perfectly muscled human with the same predator-like charm, with a matching full face mask of black and silver that showed the owner's almost-black eyes.

"You're not really asking." Sara was aware that the only reason Slade would be approaching her was to inform her of a matter of importance that the four vigilantes had deemed necessary to enlighten her of, and the only way to make that casual at this Gala was under the pretense of dance.

The mask may have hidden Slade's wicked smile, but the emotion was displayed easily enough through his eyes. That was one of Slade's lesser traits – the inability to suppress triumph of any form.

"Of course not. Shall we?"

Sara gingerly took Slade's proffered arm and allowed the swordsman to lead her onto the dance floor.

…/|\\...


	15. Chapter 15

Laurel beamed widely as she breathlessly spun guided by the gentle but firm movements of her companion. Looking up at the seamless green and silver mask, as he was perfectly tall, she felt an inner thrill that she hadn't felt in many years.

Behind the mask, Laurel was sure that she would find a man of majestic beauty and quiet strength unlike any she had ever encountered before, his large hands effortlessly leading her through the fairly complicated dance with a curious ease.

Out of the corner of her eye she delightedly saw Tommy glaring at her dance partner with a jealous rage that only half surprised her. Since arriving back from whatever behavioral correction institution that Moria and Malcolm felt necessary to send him to, Tommy had been colder, stronger and infinitely angrier.

But he had also been the perfect boyfriend. He genuinely cared for her, and showed it. He attended her ever need, and was faithful, responsible, kind, and above all listened, truly listened, for hours on end as she would rant about the difficult challenges she faced at the CRNI, and offered advice on every single subject, even if he had little experience on legal matters.

But dancing here with this unknown man before her, repressed feelings of longing burst forth within her – a longing for adventure, mystery, and an all-consuming fire. A faint frown creased her forehead, the last time she used fire to describe someone it had been for her dead cheating ex-boyfriend Oliver Queen.

She had felt no pity for his painful death, even after hearing Sara's emotional tale. Too little, too late, in her opinion. Oliver was unworthy of any good emotion, not after what he had done. She knew that if Oliver was alive he would be judging her for her actions, for being with Tommy, for not looking after Thea, for not caring about his death.

But it mattered not, for Oliver was dead – never to return, and she was dancing with a man of perfect poise and power, making even her womanizing boyfriend jealous in the process.

"You are a brilliant dancer, but I don't believe I have seen you before." She said after he spun her according to the dance, making sure she didn't fall on her high heels, managing to make the move look effortless.

Under the mask Oliver half-smiled at Laurel's compliment, he distinctly remembered her saying the same thing to him before the Queen's Gambit, on one of their first dates.

"I am the official representative of Verdant International, we have recently opened a new department in Starling City and feel it prudent to support the local community. My name, however is Jonas Wintergreen." Once again Oliver fought the urge to smile, using his middle name was a blatant taunt but there was also something addictively powerful about using the last name of a traitorous piece of scum of which the only regret Oliver had was that he had not truly suffered before Oliver killed him.

Laurel, listening to the words, also smiled, they were delightfully deep, sexily accented with Russian and most of all told a story of deep connections to power. Laurel had to admit that she always had a thing for men that were powerful, Oliver and Tommy were testaments to that fact, perhaps that was the reason that she was secretly infatuated with the heroic ideals of the Hoods.

They went against everything that she had ever believed in, they were so against the law, and they killed and tortured people mercilessly but they fought for justice, they had helped her with many cases, and they were making a real difference to this city.

"I'm Laurel Lance, one of the leading lawyers of the CRNI, it is wonderful to see such important companies taking interest in funding this important legal initiative.

"What is really wonderful is the magnificent work that you and the other lawyers do. It must be rewarding committing do much time and energy into helping others." He pulled her close letting her lithe body meld against his own strong one in time with the beautiful music.

"That was why I started in the field of law in the first place, helping people should be the top priority of any citizen of Starling, particularly those in Law."

"You, Miss Lance, are an incredibly interesting person."

"I have a boyfriend, I'm afraid."

"Mr. Merlyn has little to fear from me, I was simply remarking on your unselfishness, it is a rare trait, and frankly strange wish to be so focused on helping others. I myself often wonder how I could better contribute to this world, perhaps you could explain your unique stance to me."

Her face flushed at the undiluted praise, "I would love to."

"Excellent." With a final flourish the music ended and Laurel found herself leaning against the brilliantly muscled man, panting from exertion.

Leading her off the dance floor by one hand gentlemen-like, he surprisingly bypassed the seats that were lined up against the walls and opened a glass door into a balcony outside.

The cool air pricked across her sensitive skin, rising goose bumps and causing her to involuntarily shiver against the cold.

"So… Miss Lance. Why do you help people?"

Surprised by the generality question, she took a few seconds before answering, "It is the right thing to do."

"What are you willing to sacrifice for the greater good?"

"That is a hard question to answer, Mr. Wintergreen."

"Let me phrase it differently then, if you could save many people by killing a few, would you?"

"I believe that in some circumstances there can be no other option, besides even the police occasionally kill for the greater good of the innocents."

"Do you believe people can change?"

"In what context?" Laurel was slightly thrown by the odd seemingly unrelated question.

"Become better. To go through such a crucible that their actions of the past can no longer be held against them."

Laurel blinked slowly, a few weeks ago she would have immediately replied negative, but after some weeks of observing the changes in Sara's personality and moral code, she thought that maybe people could change. After all the Sara of today was a far cry from the irresponsible teenager that agreed on a less than innocent boat trip with her sisters equally irresponsible boyfriend.

"Perhaps it is possible, under certain circumstances."

"Would you consider torture, being taken prisoner, starvation, and being forced to do terrible things against one's will to be reasonable circumstances, Miss Lance?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Laurel did not like where this conversation was inevitably headed. She suddenly felt that something was not right about the man before her, he didn't feel normal, typical, and whole. He felt broken, shattered, and damaged.

"One I wish you to answer." The voice was eerily calm beneath the mask, he could see how uncomfortable she was and was still pushing relentlessly.

When the silence grew long he added in an attempt to pacify the agitated women, "This is all hypothetical of course, you were such a selfless women, I thought that you might be able to help me on a subject, it appears you were badly recommended. I'm sorry for any grievances caused."

As he turned to leave, making for the glass doors to the warmly lit ballroom inside, Laurel's hand shot out to grab his arm, and under the mask Oliver smiled, everything was going according to plan.

Oliver allowed himself to be pulled around to face Laurel, delighted that she had fallen for his trap, of which he had tried to spark her natural curiosity with the intriguing half-truths and mysterious references. He knew that the last question, with its undoubtedly confronting nature, almost lost her, but know he knew where the fragile boundaries lay.

With a slight frown that even the mask didn't hide, Laurel asked, "What are you talking about?"

"This may come as a shock to you, Miss Lance." He warned.

"I can take it." The slight arrogant tinge to her voice reminded Oliver of why they didn't always get along in years past. With a grimace, Oliver remembered that it was usually Tommy whom, despite his own significant ego, mediated their numerous disagreements.

"Oliver Queen is alive." Oliver watched with an almost cruel pleasure as Laurel's face changed from pure shock to confused incomprehension to fiery anger.

"What?" Laurel almost shrieked.

"Oliver. Queen. Is. Alive." Slowly pronouncing the words with an almost gleeful sadism.

Laurel had, by know, comprehended what had just been revealed to her, and coldly replied "Why should I care for that cheating bastard?"

"Because he needs your help."

…/|\\...

As Sara and Slade cut a graceful path through their fellow dancers, Slade contemplated what he was here to say, cursing that Oliver got the far more interesting job of manipulating Laurel Lance rather than updating and warning Little Miss Assassin.

Fairly certain that this was Oliver's way of paying him back for the Huntress incident, as he was well aware of how much Slade abhorred dancing of all its various forms, Slade was content to let Sara grow uncomfortably curious about this particular escapade at this rather ridiculous but convenient Masquerade.

As the dance continues Sara watches Oliver and Laurel out of the corner of her eyes continuously, clearly not trusting Oliver and fearing for Laurel, not bothering to hide it in front of Slade knowing that he would likely read the subconscious bodily signals that even those trained from birth have difficulty suppressing continuously.

"How the hell did you even get in here? It's not as if either of you can go anywhere – you're both supposed to be dead."

Slade laughed quietly under the mask, to an outsider one might have assumed that Sara had told an amusing joke and nothing more, but if one knew Slade they would notice the dark contemptuous undertone, "This is a _masquerade_ ball, Sara. It's not as if anyone can see our faces, and a change of accent disguises the voice. Surely the League taught you that."

"Who do all these people think you are then? Your daughter's here, you can hardly claim to be Slade Wilson."

Slade's trademark smirk was even more infuriating than usual as he twirled her in time with the light yet rich music, pulling her close, he whispered roguishly in her ear.

"One thankfully dead traitor at your service."

Sara raised an eyebrow as they parted once more as the dance required, "William Wintergreen is the name you chose? Out of all the possible names in the world you chose to use that son of a bitch's."

"I think it has a certain ironic ring to it." Slade, like Oliver, felt the same powerful addiction of self-satisfaction when using the name of the traitor as his own for his personal gain.

"Don't tell me Oliver's decided to be named after another psychopathic bastard you've killed like Anthony Ivo or Edward Flyers."

"No." A slight smile played under the Slade's black and silver mask, "Jonas Wintergreen suits him better, don't you think?"

Shaking her head at the obvious and unashamed use of his middle name, Sara thought that maybe, despite all the horrors and traumatic experiences that Oliver had faced, some of his previous mischief and mayhem persona remained untouched.

"What do you want Slade?"

All pretense of teasing and smiles gone, he leaned in, "A certain Nyssa Raatko just arrived in Starling City two nights ago."

Sara froze thrown at the unexpected but not entirely unwelcome news.

"No." She breathed almost desperately, "No, she can't be here."

"She's here alright, and will likely be seeing you soon – didn't you say goodbye to your lover?" Slade ruthlessly sneered.

Sara set her jaw stubbornly, "Are you sure? Have you seen her?"

"Certain, and only though the Starling airport security cameras."

"Why tell be about her? You don't like me. You wouldn't care if I dropped dead, you've made _that_ abundantly clear."

"You can hardly claim that you don't feel the same, Canary. At any rate, think of this information as a gesture of goodwill."

Sara's eyes narrowed, figuring out what the cold vigilante wanted, "You don't want me to mention you to Nyssa. Do you fear the league, Wilson?"

"I would be a fool not to wary of them"

"And yet, a man of your disposition would know that the league adheres to a strict code of honor – if what Oliver claims is true, it is unlikely that there would be any interference with his justifiable vendetta, Ra's may even order me to help or leave Merlyn to Oliver's hands, after all he was the most damaged by Malcolm's unorthodox and traitorous actions."

"Let's just say that it is not a good time for the league to be aware of our presence in Starling, and obviously our identities aren't exactly something we want known in any circle – especially those of assassins. And as you have said, we have little proof, for now it is only a claim, after all Oliver was the only witness to hear his father's dying confessions about the evil Malcolm Merlyn has planned, he could be considered to have a heavily biased point of view on this issue and thus Ra's will more than likely believe that he is unreliable." Slade countered.

After a few moments, Sara commits herself, "Understandable. Your identities are safe with me, but I warn you, if I am expressly asked I fear I cannot keep them quite forever."

"Thank you." Slade was even genuine in his gratitude.

"This is for Oliver, not you."

As the music ended, Sara watched suspiciously as Oliver led Laurel outside.

"What is he doing with her?" She asked as he in turn led her off the dance floor.

"He won't hurt her, just making sure that his return is prepared for."

Sara filed that information away – Oliver was going to 'come home' sometime in the future, possibly soon.

"One last thing Sara," Slade said, "Beware of Malcolm Merlyn, we believe that he still suspects you despite your admirable attempts to throw him off your scent." Something in Slade's voice left Sara in no doubt that he thought that her attempts were closer to amusing than to admirable in his eyes.

He dropped her hand and melded easily into the masked crowd.

…/|\\...


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys. Sorry for such a long wait. Unfortunately I'm currently in the middle of a horrific combination of writer's block and (I quote) "the hardest exams over the largest range of topics and content in your lives". So I have had little time, and little inclination to write. Another factor would be that I've found the beginning of a very old Arrow fic that I created in 2013 – After reading what little I wrote, I was somehow inspired and promptly wrote 15 000 words before stopping dead about a week ago. For those who are interested it is an AU with Oliver being injected with Mirakuru, and Robert Queen still being alive. I will probably post the first chapter soon after this one.**

**Hopefully I will regain my inspiration for this fic soon BUT no promises – my exams will finish sometime at the beginning of November so I can only promise that there will be at least three more posts before the end of the year. **

**However, I implore you to read this chapter (maybe some reviews will spark my interest once more)**

Tommy Merlyn surveyed the crowd, looking at the string of falsely interested faces of the idle rich and the genuinely pleased of the hardworking lawyers of CRNI. A stirring of abhorrence crawled under his skin, threatening to morph his grinning smile into a nasty sneer – weak.

All of them, the idle rich like empty puppets with petty emotions, they cared not for those underneath them, only money and personal pleasure held interest for them.

And the Lawyers were not much better, like the rich they were robots. They tried but their lives were pathetically monotonous. They claimed to be making a difference to the world and to their credit they did try – but their feeble attempts would eventually amount to naught.

And yet, Tommy mused, a genuine smile tugging at his lips, it was that very quality that first endeared him to Laurel. Her ability to never give up even in the most dire and helpless of circumstances.

But it changed nothing – both of these groups of people would amount to nothing, and would never be remembered in the ages to come.

As he spoke to the crowd, proclaiming the importance of the CRNI to Starling City and informing the somewhat avid audience of the incredible check that Merlyn Consolidated was contributing to the city initiative, he felt emptiness inside – something that had gnawed at his very soul.

When this feeling had first appeared, Tommy did not know. Was it when his mother died just days after his eighth birthday? Was it during the following two years when his father had abandoned him? Was it after the fateful Queen's Gambit and the tragedy that unfolded? Was it the crushed hope he felt after his trip to Hong Kong when he truly believed that his brother in all but blood had returned from the dead?

Was it when he had first stepped into Nanda Parbat? Or when he was reborn through the mystical power of the Lazarus Pit? Was it when he had finally come back to Starling city, his eyes opened to the hell it had degraded itself to? Or perhaps it was a combination of these events which had destroyed something precious inside of him that he would never get back.

He stepped down from the wooden podium, the enthusiastic claps from the audience became irritating background noise as he noticed Sara looking slightly shifty with an unreadable expression gracing her face as she walked down from upstairs – he personally somewhat doubted his father's theory that Sara was a warrior despite Malcolm never being wrong before – however that face was disturbing like his own, insecure and troubled masked by a fake confidence buoyed by the skills taught by the League of Assassins.

It was that subservient humbled awe that one felt almost constantly after pledging their life to what was possibly the most feared man to walk the earth – Ra's al Ghul.

With an internal laugh Tommy dismissed the notion carelessly, for Sara could never be a League Member; she was simply not league material, too lighthearted, too carefree, not cruel enough, and certainly not poisonous enough for the cold disciplined madness that the league commanded. But a small persistent voice snidely reminded him that once upon a time he was not League material either.

Shaking off these unsettling thoughts he claimed Laurel, and then several beautiful, mostly single women in dance. Feeling faintly smug at the perfect reaction he got out of Laurel – a mixture of outrage, annoyance and jealousy – he flirted lightly with his dance partners.

Thanking the equally vivacious, beautiful, and vicious Isabel Roshev of Stellmoor International, Tommy caught the eye of his ever serious father. Moving through the crowd easily to Malcolm Merlyn, whom had unusually for events like these, detached himself from the mature beauty, and a second mother to Tommy, that was Moria Merlyn.

"You noticed Sara's little upstairs excursion." It was not a question but a statement.

"Yes, father."

"Keep a steady eye on her. She is trouble. I'm sure of it."

"Of course, father." Tommy looked across the room, blood running hotly as he observed the men dancing with the Lance girls, "Speaking of trouble – who the hell are those two?"

Malcolm followed Tommy's gesture and frowned, "With the Lances? Presumably William and Jonas Wintergreen, employees of Verdant."

"Presumably?" Tommy raised an eyebrow not liking where this conversation was headed.

"No such brothers exist, and even accounting for other nationalities or legitimate changes of names, neither are whom they say they are. Of that I am certain."

"Why are they here then? Do you know whom they really are? Are they dangerous?" Tommy proclaimed alarmed.

With a wry smile, for not even the League could quench his son's natural curiosity and frankly absurd overprotectiveness of Miss Laurel Lance, Malcolm answered carefully, "Apparently they are here to donate for Verdant as he has opened another branch here in Starling. Their identities are a close kept secret, however one of them is defiantly a high ranking member of the Russian mob, the Bratva to be exact. And as for the danger – very limited considering that we are at a charity ball, besides they are basically glorified bully boys acting as managers for Verdant."

"Humph." Tommy sighed, disliking anyone else's hands on Laurel, especially not some lowlife thug which worked with organizations such as the Bratva.

Besides everyone knew that Verdant himself did not play fair, having blackmailed the Triad, Yakuza and several governments into submission and regularly taking over other businesses to expand his empire. In barely three years Verdant had gone for a complete nobody to the owner of the fastest growing company in the world, already raking in millions, no one has ever seen his face or even knows his real name. A green V his only symbol.

And yet many whispered that he was actually someone well-known and only hid his face to see what he could do without having anyone aware of his influence and personal involvement. It would certainly explain the immense startup money that he seemed to obtain magically when Verdant first started in Hong Kong.

Others still said that he was the tragic heir to a royal fortune, a bastard child whom hid his face because his family were ashamed. Some said he a former military general or was once a crime syndicate boss whom was ruthlessly amassing money to destroy his betrayers whom had left his for dead.

At any rate, whoever he was, he was relentless and powerful. No one had ever dared cross his after he crushed the Triad in their own territory. Verdant and his men were not ones that he wanted near Laurel, and though he was sure he could outmaneuver anything Verdant did, he did not appreciate his men near the love of his life.

…/|\\...

Diggle watched passively as the cars of the rich and famous of Starling, and those of the hardworking lawyers of CRNI, drove out of the equally expansive and extravagant Queen Mansion grounds and into the dark night, after biding the gracious hosts farewell. Discreetly, Diggle slipped into the shadows of the beautiful oak trees that flanked the driveway.

Holding the phone that Felicity had given him all those months ago when he first agreed to keep an eye on Thea for Oliver, and Wilson children for Slade. Encrypted and virtually impossible to hack, track or bug, it was perfect for its task but it was also fairly conspicuous, Malcolm and Tommy would recognize the unique properties of the phone instantly if they were given the chance to inspect it, therefore he made sure to use it away from their view or when they were distracted.

"Any developments?" Slade asked, showing his inherent ability to be completely clueless when it came to something as simple as common manners.

"Not anything you don't already know. Both Thea and Rose are safe, and have confided in each other about the most recent…" Diggle chose his words carefully, "information."

"What's the problem than, Dig?" Oliver must have been listening with Slade as he spoke into the phone.

"I think that the Merlyn's are becoming suspicious of me."

"Because of whom Lyla works for or because of the way you act?"

"I think both." Diggle looked shiftily behind him, there had been no noise and yet he felt like someone was watching him.

"Unfortunate, but not unexpected. Is extraction needed?" Slade asked in a professional manner that he had picked up in his work with ASIS and never truly lost despite the true nature of his missions.

"No. I believe that they will not yet act upon their suspicions – they don't have direct reason to."

"When have Merlyn's ever shown any reason?" Oliver muttered darkly.

The sixth sense tingled again, making its chilling way up his spine, "I'll be careful." He promised.

"Sometimes careful isn't enough. Keep an eye on the girls, especially around the Merlyns." Slade's voice was gruff, he hated that his daughter was even in the same vicinity of a monster like Malcom, let alone in the same house.

"I will keep them…" Diggle sighed as he spoke to a series of beeps – Slade has an unfortunate habit of hanging up in mid-conversation. "…out of trouble." He mumbled to himself.

As he slipped the phone into his pocket he turned and was met with a solid punch to the face.

Instincts kicked in and Diggle swiftly stepped back despite the spots dancing in his eyes from the direct hit. He reached for his gun but before he lifted it above waist height a hand grabbed his wrist from behind and twisted the gun from his grasp.

Diggle lashed out with simultaneous kick and punch maneuver that he had only perfected after hours of rough training with Slade and Oliver. His punch managed to land a hit on the attacker in front of him but the kick was expertly ducked and then turned against him as one of the attackers jabbed at his exposed torso, with his center of balance to be lost, Diggle found himself desperately trying not to fall to the ground and defend himself against the two attackers at the same time.

Unfortunately he could not do both and grunted as he was hit twice in quick succession before he was forced onto his knees by forceful shove. Numbly, Diggle looked up to see the shadowed faces of Thomas and Malcolm Merlyn.

"The Phone." Malcolm demanded.

Diggle spat the blood that had swelled up in his mouth on to the ground and shook his head in defiance.

With a nod from Malcolm, the younger Merlyn roughly frisked his body, taking away his extra handgun and both phones. Examining the phone, he discarded the gun and his extra phone.

"Who were you talking to?"

Diggle said nothing.

A sharp kick to Diggle's abdomen and a series of punches to his face was administered but Diggle kept his pain compartmentalized and allowed only a grunt of pain to stifle through.

Malcolm tilted his head sideways, considering the dark-skinned man on his knees, "Speak."

"No." Was his defiant reply.

"Then we will have to talk to them ourselves." Nodding to Tommy he ordered, "Redial."

The younger Merlyn did so, and the three men waited is silence as the phone rang.

Diggle held his breath as the phone was answered, he hoped that it wasn't Oliver, despite the time lapse, it was quite possible that the Merlyns would recognize his voice.

To his relief it was Slade's gruff voice that answered, "You have ten seconds to tell me something worth listening too before I hunt you down and slit your throat."

Malcolm blinked in surprise, whatever he was expecting, this was not it.

In that moment of hesitation Diggle spoke, "The Merlyn's…"

Tommy punched Diggle's stomach, expelling his air and cutting off his sentence, but it was enough to alert Slade that it was not only Diggle at the end of the line.

Realizing that it was too late to act otherwise, Merlyn spoke, "Mr. Diggle has breached his contract, if anyone has a reason to slit another's throat, it would be me."

At the blatant threat Slade had no choice but to respond in kind, "I assure you, Mr. Diggle has in no way breached his contract."

"Do not think me a fool." Malcolm warned, "Mr. Diggle has spoken to an outsider about matters that concern my family alone, you may inform Miss Waller that if another ARGUS Agent is sent, Mr. Diggle will pay the consequences."

Slade, realizing that Malcolm incorrectly assumed that he was an ARGUS agent working with Diggle.

"What makes you think that I am an ARGUS Stooge?" The amusement and distaste palatable in his voice.

"The advanced technology of this phone, Mr. Diggle's wife, the recent ARGUS activity is Starling – I could continue?"

"Perhaps you could – but I ask you this – Why would anyone, most of all ARGUS be interested in Rose Wilson?"

"Rose Wilson! What do you mean Rose Wilson?" Tommy spluttered.

"I mean that you incorrectly assume that Mr. Diggle has breached his contract, that I am an ARGUS Agent, and that I am interested in your family."

"Your argument is weak. I don't have time for these thinly veiled lies." Malcolm dismissed him with an arrogance that surprised Slade, who was used to fighting the deceptively cunning Dark Archer.

Slade, resigning that there was only one way to side-step disaster, began forming that basis of a plan in his mind that may fit in with the foundations that they had already laid and did not disrupt any of their future plans.

"Starling City Harbor, Dock 3, Midnight. If you want information you will find it there. Mr. Diggle can be kept hostage until you are satisfied." Slade hung up the phone resolutely.

…/|\\...


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm Back People! **

**After an incredibly exhausting last few months, I'm finally free. Hopefully this means more writing and thus more updating. **

**As a treat (because of my terrible lack of updating recently), I'm updating both of my Arrow fics (Miracle and Four Vigilantes) at the same time.**

**Stay obsessed, my fellow fanfic fans. (And send me some lovely long reviews :D)**

The dark shadows that overhung the Starling City Docks provided the perfect ground for illegitimate activity, if you wanted a meeting to go unnoticed, the docks were the place to go.

Not only was the cameras limited or fake, there was many small pockets of private space between the large shipping containers. This was a safe haven because even the Starling City Vigilante's couldn't monitor every dock in the Harbor.

Fliting from shadow to shadow the Dark Archers easily entered the docks unseen, silently they canvas the area for threats and find none. It was an unusually quiet night, with fewer than normal workers and ships in the port.

The two men split as they entered dock three, Malcolm stepped out of the shadows walking between the small pockets of space between the steel containers while Tommy took the high ground, creeping along the top of the shipping containers, staying in the shadows.

It took barely a minute for Malcolm to see him. A dark silhouette underneath one of the cranes, light shining down on him from above. He was turned away, the light forbidding Malcolm from picking out any particular details aside from his robust statue and dark clothing.

"Malcolm Merlyn." The voice, undoubtedly the same that had spoken on the phone, was cold and gruff. This was a man that was ruthlessly confident and entirely unafraid, his exposed back still turned away.

"I would say that it is a pleasure but I'm afraid…" Malcolm was cut off by the man rising his hand.

"Is Mr. Diggle alive?" He asked.

Malcolm was not entirely surprised by the question but found himself re-evaluating the man before him, "Yes."

"Good." Slade stepped out of the half-darkness and into the light.

The haunting mask of Deathstroke, half black as night and half a bright unmistakable orange, stared out at Malcolm and it took every last inch of his control to not lift his hand to grab an arrow out of his quiver and shoot the man before him.

He was clothed in flexible black with segmented body armor of dark blue lined with orange. A strap of extra ammo, pockets, and explosives crossed over his chest from right shoulder to his left waist, linking with the belt which holstered two guns on each hip. Armored gloves and boots of metal and rubber coloured black, dark blue and orange guarded his hands and feet. All the extra pockets, ammo, and straps held in place by orange mental carabineer clips. Upon his back strapped were three swords; one long double-handed tempered broad sword, and two shorter machete-like swords.

Malcolm scanned the figure for additional weapons and counted at least three knifes, a 9 mm in his left boot, and a carefully concealed triplet of poison darts clipped onto the right arm at the outer edges of the armor. This was a man well-versed in weaponry of many kinds, to the point where his body had become a weapon itself.

"Deathstroke." It was spoken as a statement but there was the underlying question to the words that was undeniable.

"The one and only." There words were coolly mocking.

"Not if the legend is to be believed. Isn't there supposed to be six of you?" Malcolm replied.

"Legends are not always true but it was essentially inspired by me."

"What is your business in Starling City?"

"Partially because my current employer wants me in America, but for the most part I'm here on personal business."

A silence stretched between the two men, Deathstroke seemed uninclined to reveal any more.

"You promised me answers." Malcolm threatened, "Mr. Diggle is alive but that might change at any moment."

"I promised you answers about my business with Mr. Diggle – nothing else."

Malcolm twisted his mouth into a cruel grimace, he was not surprised but nonetheless irritated by Deathstroke's inability to be forthright, however he answered calmly, "What is your business with Mr. Diggle?"

"He is informing me on something important to me."

"I'd like to believe you but the activities of my step-daughter are not relevant to the information that you would need, so I ask again – What is your business with Mr. Diggle?" Malcolm's hand twitched – signal to Tommy for a warning shot.

"Your daughter's activity is not the information I seek. I have already told you she is of no interest to me."

Malcolm frowned – Tommy should've taken the shot by now – He signaled again, Tommy has never failed him before.

"This is the last chance you have–"

"Or what? You'll have your son shoot me?" Deathstroke's voice turned cold as ice, "You have your allies and I have mine."

The quiet scruff of rubber against the rough concrete ground, Malcolm turned to see Tommy – still hooded but unarmed – being pushes forward by another masked Deathstroke, the naked blade wickedly catching the sparse clinical white light.

This man was taller and leaner than the first, but wore the same black-blue-orange armor combination. However this man had only two swords; a short sword that hung at his hip and the katanna in his hand whose sheath was strapped to his back. He also had more guns, four visible, and no doubt more concealed. There was less explosives and more variations of ammo – armor piecing rounds, poisoned bullets and darts.

"Release him." Malcolm demanded.

With a nod, Tommy was released and the second Deathstroke tossed a bow and quiver at his feet. Tommy stood behind his father, angry at himself for allowing the man to beat him, and scared at the repercussions that his father would undoubtedly deal to him.

"You should have come alone." Deathstroke growled.

The second Deathstroke sauntered across the no-man's-land between the two parties with the power and grace reminiscent of a hunting wolf. Standing next to the first Deathstroke, he murmured something inaudible before sheathing his katanna in one smooth movement.

"Did you really expect me to?"

A derisive huff escaped Slade's lips, "No."

A pause before Malcolm spoke, "It appears we have reached an impasse – You will not answer my questions and yet you know who I am – Do you understand the position I am in?"

He responded with a slow nod, "Yes."

"Then you understand that the most reasonable course of action is for me to kill Mr. Diggle, and force you from my city. I must protect my family."

"If that is your reasoning…" Slade reached his hands up and removed his mask, "Than you must understand that I'm trying to protect my family."

"No way." Tommy breathed.

"My name is Slade Wilson. Grant, Rose, and Joe are my children."

Malcolm concealed his shock effectively after only a millisecond of emotion tore through. He had seen the photo Rose kept on her phone of this man, albeit almost a decade younger, but there was no mistaking it.

He was an older version of young Grant Wilson; but slightly shorter, his skin was darker and his hair cut shorter, his body was more robust and corded with decades of powerfully built muscle, his face was nicked with scars and carried a tone of darkness and world-wary assurance.

"I was, or rather, am Deathstroke. Six years ago a job went bad. I was stranded, presumed dead and my partner betrayed me. When I finally escaped it was too dangerous for me to return to my family. It still is. Mr. Diggle keeps tabs on my children for me while I work."

"You are still a mercenary?"

"Of a sort."

Understanding that little headway would be made on that front, Malcolm changed tactics, "How did you know of my _other activities_ – surely Mr. Diggle could not tell you that."

"No, he could not. However it was a collation of sources that brought me to that conclusion – I wasn't entirely certain until you held Diggle's life hostage."

"And no one else know?"

"Aside from my partner, no. I understand the want for discretion on these matters."

"Didn't you say that your partner betrayed you?" Tommy questioned.

"Yes, he did but Royal here was our protégée at the time. If it was not for him I would be dead."

"Not going to remove you mask, Royal?"

"No." Was the cold and humorless response.

Slade intervened, seeing the conversation heading into treacherous territory, "Are you satisfied with my answers, Mr. Merlyn?"

Frowning Malcolm answered, "Yes. I will release Mr. Diggle."

"Good." He grunted, "However I must ask you to keep my identity and my existence to yourself – even from my children."

"I will keep your secrets, if you do the same."

Slade nodded in agreement before reattaching his mask and stepping back into the shadows, Royal following him.

Malcolm turned to his son, disappointed with the ease in which Royal had defeated him, he looked at him and decided that words would not be sufficient to convey his displeasure.

Stalking confidently, Malcolm strode out of the Starling City Docks, dodging the cameras and guards with ease. Tommy followed like a lost puppy, aware of what was coming, but unable to find the spine to fight it.

…/|\\...

Nyssa al Ghul stood resolutely on the rooftop of her Beloved's sister's apartment. Underneath her facade of calm cool confidence she was a tumultuous mix of emotions; pain, fear, love and most of all, uncertainty.

She felt the air shift behind her and knew that she was no longer alone.

"My Beloved, Ta-er al-Sahfer."

Sara stepped beside her, "Nyssa, I'm so-"

She was cut off as Nyssa pulled her into a passionate kiss. Her hands automatically reached up, one curling at the back of her head and the other sprayed on her collarbone.

Moments past and the kiss became more heated as Nyssa's tongue slipped into Sara's hot mouth. It was then that Sara tore herself away from her Beloved, chest heaving from a combination of arousal and lack of oxygen.

"I can't." Sara murmured, "I just can't."

Nyssa frowned deeply, while she expected some aversion, knowing that Sara was not particularly pleased to be assigned this mission due to its suspicious nature - they both knew that if Sara was to fight Malcolm Merlyn she would die but if she did not fight him if he was outed as a traitor of the League, she would be branded a traitor and Nyssa would be unable to help her.

But Nyssa did not expect Sara to be so direct in her anger, something else was bothering her.

"Beloved? What troubles you?" She questioned softly.

"I can't. Not anymore. Ra's sent me on this mission for a dual purpose; to test my loyalty to him alone, and to get me away from you. He does not believe I have a place in the League, and even if I do - it is not by your side."

"My father is wrong. You belong with me." Her eyes were fiery, daring Sara to disagree.

Sara sighed, "It doesn't matter. You shouldn't have come here. Your father will be most displeased."

"Then let him be displeased. Nothing, not even my Father, will keep me from you."

Sara could not help but smile almost lovingly at Nyssa at that proclamation, but internally she was torn between her love for Nyssa, and her fear of the wrath of Ra's al Ghul. Torn between her loyalty to Oliver and Starling city, and her loyalty to the League. Torn between the love that she felt for her family, and the hate that she had for Malcolm Merlyn.

"It is dangerous here." She paused, unsure how to proceed, "I believe that Malcolm Merlyn suspects me and my involvement with the League. There are many influences at work, ones that are unpredictable and uncontrollable."

"You speak of the Vigilante problem of Starling?" Nyssa spoke the words as a statement but Sara knew that she was questioning her judgement.

"I fear that there might be a personal investment in this mission of theirs, perhaps a vendetta that crosses paths with my own orders from the League."

"If the Vigilante's interfere – they must die." Nyssa noted the tenseness in Sara's face and continued, "You know the rules, Sara."

"I know. But…" She hesitated remembering her promise to Oliver, "I have seen them – and there is a possibility that they may be justified in their vendetta, perhaps even more than the League."

Nyssa's brown furrowed, "Have you spoke with them? Are they aware of the League's intentions?"

"Yes I spoke with them, but as Sara Lance – not as the Canary. They have a clear interest in Malcolm Merlyn and his activities in Starling City – and I believe that it runs deeper than just a Robin-Hood escapade, or a break of their twisted moral code." Sara winced internally, hoping that Nyssa would one day forgive her for this half-truth that she spoke, especially if Nyssa ever found out the true identities of the Vigilantes.

"As noble as their intentions may be, if they cross the League they court death."

Sara turned away, not ready to face the words that Nyssa spoke, despite knowing that they were sadly true.

For a time they stood in silence, listening to the sounds of a suffering city puncture the night air with cars, yelling, and the odd gunshot or scream followed by a high pitched siren.

Eventually Sara reached out and slipped her hand into Nyssa's drawing her close.

"Nyssa… I'm conflicted." She looked into her Love's eyes seriously, "I fear that there is an unwinnable war coming – and this city will be its battleground."

"Something has upset you. You know that you can tell me anything, Beloved."

Sara hovered in indecision for only another moment before taking a calculated risk despite knowing that this could make her position so much worse, especially if Nyssa repeated the words to her father, "Malcolm Merlyn – I think he sabotaged the Queen's Gambit."

"The yacht you were on? But you said it was an accident, that it was a storm." Even Nyssa, trained from birth, was unable to keep the surprise from her voice at Sara's sudden accusation.

Sara replied, her tone tinged with a mixture of sadness and apprehension, "I'm not sure about anything anymore."

…/|\\...


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello my precious readers. **

**As it is Christmas Eve (at least it is here in Australia), I decided that you all deserved a present for managing to keep reading my writing despite my irregular and erratic updates. **

**Unfortunately, my earlier prediction of having more time was inexplicably wrong. Despite the fact I am (for all intents and purposes) on holiday. It seems that I have a continuous and never-ending list of things to do. And it seems that there is no end in sight. Hopefully when the New Year starts I will be able to find a more suitable routine which will include far more time dedicated to writing. **

**However, despite the hectic nature of the past few months, I am ecstatic because I have been accepted into the course I was aiming for (despite being eight point one points lower than the entry score of last year - bonus points truly are lifesavers). So now that I've managed to get into Uni, I should have a far more rigid routine in which to dedicate time to writing and therefore it will be easier than just trying to randomly grab a few moments every now and then. **

**Anyway, with hope for the future, I decided to power through and have managed to write and edit a chapter for my current two fanfics for all of you to enjoy.**

**Stay safe, and have a very Merry Christmas.**

Tommy gritted his teeth as the rough fraying rope dug into his flesh rubbing against the already raw skin. Droplets of the brightest crimson trickled down his arms and back, painting the dull grey concrete floor in intricate sprays of scarlet red.

While he was not unfamiliar with pain, it was not a welcomed nor pleasant experience, particularly as it was wielded not by some terrible enemy or faceless league member but by his own father.

He knew that his father was a great believer in the motto – pain builds strength – and on several occasions his father had punished him as such, particularly after he had returned from the League. But this was a new level of harshness that bordered on mindless torture.

His arms tied above his head to a crossbeam of a splintered wooden post, his pale back exposed, bare of any cloth or protection.

The seven strips of leather came down again and this time Tommy fought a scream as the knots tore through his skin and reopened an older wound from a similar punishment.

In his head he counted as the cat o'nine tails whip fell once more like a hot metal branding iron on his naked flesh.

18

Never before had his father dared flog him so many times, partly for the fear that he would be useless to him unconscious, immensely wounded, or dead, partly as it was hard to explain away such an injury if it was somehow exposed, and partly because Tommy had never failed him so directly and unquestionably before.

19

If not for the sweat-soaked, bitter-tasting leather wrapped wooden dowel in his mouth Tommy knew that he long since would have bitten his tongue off, or worse - began to scream or cry due to the immense discomfort and pain he was in.

20

Finally the barbaric punishment was over and the rope was untied by his father's rough careless hands. Tommy held in the pain and rather than rub desperately at the raw skin or seek out bandages or cloth to soak his bleeding back. He stood at attention next to the whipping post, trying desperately not to fidget or allow any emotion to filter through his fragile mask.

Malcolm looked at his son in disappointment, not even bothering with his own emotionless mask. While he was undoubtedly his blood and his son, he was frustratingly soft, even after the two years spent with the League.

Barely graduating above basic training, Ra's had freed Tommy from the League's direct obligations knowing that Malcolm would have more use for him here in Starling as an assistant and business protégée rather than keeping him in Nanda Parbat where his weakness would soon get him and possibly others killed.

The whipping was not especially harsh in the overall standards of possible punishment, particularly only twenty lashes, and despite Malcolm's cruel cold nature, he had not dared whip his son with his full strength.

"Go." Malcolm cursed himself for acting so soft with his son, but he could not help but be reminded of his beloved Rebecca, and her delicate emotions, her beautiful care of all living beings, no matter how infected with evil, corruption, and weakness.

She was so perfectly caring, so incredibly different to his own dark, violent, jealous persona hidden beneath by a layer of dry humor, efficient practically, and apathy.

Tommy walked out, sliding back the false door, and stumbling through the corridors and stairs up to his room in the Merlyn mansion. It was only when he had shut the heavy wooden door did he finally allow a whine of pain to be released.

He huddled against the door, desperately holding back the pain that threatened to overcome him and blot out his consciousness. After several moments of self-pity he stumbled to his feet and, with an excess of swearing, managed to rub balm into, and bandage his bloody back with strips of cloth.

Tommy lay exhausted on the bed, staring up at the molded ceiling with disinterest, cursing that he had let Deathstroke's partner, _Royal_, get the jump on him.

Malcolm watched Tommy through the computer screen in his home office, it was when he saw the weakness that infected his son did he almost regret the accidental death of Oliver Queen on the Queen's Gambit.

While he was almost certainly a terrible influence on his son's mind, he had a fire within him. Hidden deep beneath the layers of the confident attention-seeking playboy persona, the surly neglected teen, the loud yet intelligent child, the kind loving brother, the mischievous daring best friend – underneath every layer there was a fire that burned with a heat that would sear anyone who touched it.

Malcolm saw that fire in Oliver, despite how small and deep down it was.

He saw the coldness that mirrored his own when Oliver had discarded another of his women companions, he saw through the self-satisfied smirk and saw the derision and icy emptiness that he used to see when he looked in the mirror before he met Rebecca.

He remembered when Oliver decked the overzealous paparazzi douche. In the moments before Malcolm had seen the flare of violence in his eyes, hampered by the alcohol, and Malcolm was sure that if given the opportunity he would have done far worse than a simple punch.

There was also one memorable incident that he managed to coax out of a drunk Tommy about an extended trip to Gotham that Tommy took with the Queens while he was in Nanda Parbat.

When Oliver and Tommy were outside the Wayne Manor after the funeral of Martha and Thomas Wayne, a group of local rich youths decided to mercilessly tease both Tommy and the young Bruce Wayne about their dead parents.

It was Malcolm's understanding that Oliver had flew at them in such a righteous rage that despite being outnumbered four to one and being half the other boys size, Oliver had to be pulled away physically to prevent him harming the bullies further.

He saw how Oliver treated Laurel, and while he felt slightly incensed on his son's behalf (not that he would ever admit to Tommy that he was aware of his puppy-love of Laurel before Oliver's death), he also saw the emptiness that was within Oliver.

The emptiness that Oliver tried to hid with the snarky humor, the reckless adrenaline seeking, and the womanizing playboy persona. Inside he was hollow and unfulfilled, deprived of something he had never known.

Malcolm remembered that feeling himself, before he had set foot in Nanda Parbat, even before he had met the love and light of his life, Rebecca.

Malcolm wondered what would happen if Oliver was pushed – Would he bend or break? Would he whither or thrive? Would he die or survive?

With a sigh he pulled the thoughts aside – there was no use dwelling on what could have been – and he stood, intent on confronting his son.

He pushed open his son's door with a twinge of trepidation, while his son was unforgivably weak, it was but his own fault – he had never been harsh enough until Moria insisted on sending him to Nanda Parbat after Tommy gallivanted off to Hong Kong with the absurd idea that Oliver was still alive.

And now he feared that his son still did not understand, or blamed him for these necessary measures.

"We need to talk."

"Always a bad sign." Tommy insolently muttered, still looking at the ceiling with disinterest.

Malcolm let the disrespect slide for the moment and stood over his son, arms crossed, "You need to make more time to train and practice."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That Royal should never have captured you."

"I'm not good enough, you mean."

"No you are not." Malcolm watched with slight satisfaction the hurt that flickered across Tommy's face, "You are trained by the League's greatest fighters and yet you could not even ward off a single mercenary. You need to stop socializing and playing with your girlfriend, and start taking this seriously."

"Have you ever considered that I don't want this? That I can never be as good as you want me to be? – especially in fighting."

"Stop being childish. The League should have beat that out of you."

"Because beating is the only way to get someone to respect you." Tommy sarcastically said.

"Stand up." The order was cool and crisp; icy coldness and contempt tinging Malcolm's voice.

Tommy stumbled to his feet despite his extensive wounds and stood before his father, scared that he had pushed him too far.

"Do I need to remind you why we are doing this?" The lowness of his voice did not negate from the tone of coldness, in fact it only made the emotionlessness more pronounced.

Tommy looked at his feet like a chastened child, "No, Father. The Undertaking has my full support."

Malcolm forced his son's head up and looked deeply into his eyes where he could hold no lies.

He smiled a cool, cruel smile, "Good."

…/|\\...

Laurel raised her trembling hand, steading herself with a shaky, deep breath, and knocked – once, twice, thrice – on the hard white wooden door.

She stood with trepidation outside the apartment, wondering if it would have been more productive to catch the woman at work, and not at home.

The door burst open, and Laurel instinctively stepped back.

"Hello?" Laurel said tentatively, blinking at the unexpected explosion of bright colors.

A young women, somewhere in her early twenties, stood with a tablet in one hand and an extension cord in the other.

She was wearing a light pink blouse, a simple short stripped skirt, and oddly, bare feet. Her hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail and shockingly bright pink lipstick adorned her lips.

Her face was like an open book, questioning her appearance at her door step.

"I'm Laurel Lance."

Her eyes shone intelligently behind glasses as she studied Laurel, she blinked once in surprise and opened her mouth, "Of course, Miss Laurel Lance. The brilliant, beautiful Lawyer, saving the Glades on her lonesome – well not on your lonesome per say, there are the other CRNI lawyers and workers. And I mean technically the Vigilantes are also saving the city, and then there is the police department – which I guess should be given points for trying. And also your sister is back from the dead so I guess you really aren't alone anymore. Unless my use of the word 'lonesome' was metaphorical in which case you could emotionally be alone with no one to talk too…"

The verbal outpouring of words stopped abruptly for a second before Felicity adjusted her glasses and continued, an embarrassed blush settling on her cheeks, "Um, sorry that was just my opinion which has no relevance whatsoever, and should be ignored… I'm going to shut up in 3, 2, 1…"

Laurel was overwhelmed by the frankly impressive tangents that Felicity managed to fit into on breath but was aware that she had only a little time before she met Tommy, and was focused enough on her mission to stand there speechless for only three seconds before deciding to take Felicity's advice on ignoring the past few comments.

"You know who I am?"

"Yes. Your work in the Glades is inspiring, particularly the cases against Adam Hunt, Martin Sommers, and Jason Brodeur. Saving Peter Declan's life was…"

Laurel, who had by now realized that Felicity's rants could continue for extensive periods of time without breaks, interrupted, "I was just doing my duty to the innocent people of this city. I was wondering if you could help me with a problem that I have."

"A problem? What makes you think I can help?" Her voice was littering and bright with unhidden interest.

"Perhaps we could talk in a more private setting, Laurel delicately hinted.

"Of course. Come inside." Felicity turned to lead her into the apartment but forgot about the extension cord which wrapped around her body in an awkward fashion.

Laurel held back a laugh, wondering if Felicity could really help her with the task of finding Oliver, but decided to take the risk, hoping that Felicity's reputation at the IT Department of Merlyn Global was not exaggerated.

"Let me help."

Soon Felicity was untangled and Laurel sat on the edge of the simple grey couch covered in brightly coloured cushions of yellow and blue in Felicity's living room, nursing a cup of coffee and admiring the Errol Flynn Robin Hood poster on the wall above the Plasma TV.

Felicity perched opposite her upon a deep purple velvet settee, the coffee mug in her own hands steaming gently.

"So. What problem can I help you with, Miss Lance?"

Laurel chewed her lip, a nervous tick that she had never been able to rid herself of, and tried to find the works to approach the subject without sounding insane.

"A few days ago, I was approached by a man who called himself Jonas Wintergreen, a representative for Verdant International… He informed me of something, of someone that I could help. I was skeptical at first but I researched it anyway, and I believe that he might be right."

Felicity reached behind her and as subtly as possible began hacking into her phone through her tablet, she needed an excuse to exit the room and talk with Oliver, Slade, Shado, Yao Fei, and Diggle about the surprising turn of events.

"Right about what?" Felicity asked, struggling to keep the nervous tone from tinging her voice.

Felicity knew exactly what Laurel was going on about, she had been listening in on the Masquerade Ball Night with Yao Fei and Shado via the small two-way communicators that were subtly attached to the underside of both Slade and Oliver's masks.

Felicity was unsurprised that Laurel had begun to research into the Queen's Gambit, and inevitably the possible continued existence of Oliver, she was caught off guard by Laurel coming to her for help.

While the four vigilantes were excellent planners of inevitabilities, there was no current plan for Laurel to be asking for her help to find Oliver Queen, who was one of the vigilantes that she spent her nights with, trying to make a difference in Starling City.

Laurel just happening to come to her for help was a coincidence, and Felicity didn't really believe in coincidences anymore – they bugged her, and just like mysteries, they begged to be solved.

"He was right that the Queen's Gambit was not an accident and that Oli–"

Laurel was cut off as Felicity's android mobile vibrated loudly on the light wood coffee table between the two women.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Felicity picked up the phone, words tumbling out of her mouth, "Oh God, I've really got to take this. I apologize but I don't think that I can–"

Laurel smiled understandingly, assuming that it was either family or work, knowing that sometimes they interfered at the worst of times, "Its ok, just don't be too long. I've got to leave soon."

_I'm really sorry_. Felicity mouthed once more before exiting the room and answering her own call.

As she shut the light plaster board door behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief before dialing the emergency number that she held for Shado to only be used in the case, of well, in the case of emergencies.

"Shado, we may have a problem." She said as quietly as possible, hoping that a solution would be met before Laurel left the building.

…/|\\...


End file.
